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THE FAERIE QUEENE 




EDMUND SPENSER. 



THE 



FAEEIE QUEENE 



BY 

EDMUND SPE]^SER 



WITH AN INTRODUCTION 

BY 

WILLIAM P. TRENT 

PROFESSOR IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 



NEW YORK 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 



./\3T7 



THE L'SRARY OF 
C0N'»iR6SS. 

) V.0 Copiss R»c»lv«c 

OCT n '<^03 

CLASS A^ XXc. No 



V^ 



7 ?. 



OPY l5. 



Copyright, 1903, 
By THOMAS Y. CROAVELL & CO. 



CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Introduction , , . ix 

Life .............. xix 

A Letter of the Authors ......... 3 

Verses addressed to the Author 7 

Verses addressed, by the Author of the Faerie Queen, to Various 

Noblemen, etc. ........... 10 

The First Book of The Faerie Queene, coiitayning the Legend of 

the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Ilolinesse 14 

Canto I ^ .' ' . ^ 14 

Canto II 22 

Canto III 28 

Canto IV 34 

Canto V 41 

Canto VI 40 

Canto VII 55 

Canto VIII 63 

Canto IX 70 

Canto X 77 

Canto XI 87 

Canto XII 94 

The Second Book of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of 

Sir Guyon, or of Temperaunce 101 

Canto 1 102 

Canto II 110 

Canto III 116 

Canto IV 123 

Canto V 129 

Canto VI 135 

Canto VII 142 

Canto VIII 151 

Canto IX 158 

Canto X 167 

Canto XI 177 

Canto XII 183 

V 



VI CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Thirde Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of 

Britomartis, or of Chastity 196 

Canto 1 196 

Canto II 206 

Canto III 213 

Canto IV 221 

Canto V 229 

Canto VI 237 

Canto VII 244 

Canto VIII 252 

Canto IX 259 

Canto X 266 

Canto XI 274 

Canto XII. 281 

The Fourth Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of 

Cambel and Triamond, or of Friendship 288 

Canto 1 289 

Canto II 296 

Canto IIT. 304 

Canto IV 311 

Canto V 318 

Canto VI 324 

Canto VII 330 

Canto VIII 337 

Canto IX 345 

Canto X 351 

Canto XI 359 

Canto XII 366 

The Fifth Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of 

Artegall, or of Justice 371 

Canto 1 372 

Canto II 376 

Canto III 384 

Canto IV 389 

Canto V 396 

Canto VI. . . . . . • 404 

Canto VII 409 

Canto VIII 415 

Canto IX 422 

Canto X 429 

Canto XI 434 

Canto XII 443 



CONTENTS. vii 



PAGE 

The Sixte Booke of The Faerie Queene, contayning the Legend of 

Sir Calidore, or of Courtesie 450 

Canto 1 451 

Canto II 457 

Canto III 464 

Canto IV. 470 

Canto V 476 

Canto VI 481 

, Canto VII • . . . . t88 

Canto VIII 495 

Canto IX 502 

Canto X 508 

Canto XI 514 

Canto XII 521 

Two Cantos of Mutabilitie : which, both for forme and matter, appeare 
to be parcell of some following Booke of The Faerie Queene, under the 

Legend of Constancie 527 

Canto VI 527 

Canto VII 535 

Canto VIII . .^ . . 643 

Variations from the Original Editions 545 

Glossary 557 

Index to First Lines 581 



INTRODUCTION. 



Of Spenser, more than of most other famous writers, it may be plausibly 
said that he needs no introduction. Not only has a great mass of criticism been 
heaped upon his works — although he has apparently fared better in this respect 
than his three compeers, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and Milton — but it is entirely 
^'iperfluous to say a word in his favor to his admirers, and almost a forlorn 
idertaking to try to win over to him unappreciative or totally indifferent and 
3glectful readers. Like his greater disciple, Milton, Spenser suffers from the 
defects of his qualities ; and, perhaps even more than in the case of Paradise 
Lost, the reading public, so far as his greatest work. The Faerie Qiieene, is 
concerned, contents itself with that method of sampling which is to a poet 
-'most as much an insult as an involuntary tribute. His Epithalamioyi and his 
'rothalamion are familiar to lovers of poetry, but nothing that he wrote has 
Lie currency of Milton's so-called Minor Poems. Hence, in the popular mind, 
Spenser is less near in order of eminence to Shakespeare's throne than Milton is, 
perhaps less near than Chiucer — although, more probably, through his archaic 
diction, he is usually grouped with Chaucer in a relationship of vague and anti- 
quated greatness. 

When a truly great poet is placed in such a position, his upholders become as 
a rule all the more intense in their devotion and, in proportion, scornful of the 
taste and critical capacity of the large world of readers. And nearly always 
neither party is wholly wrong or wholly right ; indeed, it is fairer to say, each 
party has a good deal of right and truth on its side. • In the case of Spenser, no 
idealist, no sensitive lover of ethereal beauty, no reader endowed with an ear 
trained to delight in the subtlest melodies and most exquisite harmonies, no 
dreamer enamored of the stately and romantic past, no willing prober of alle- 
g)ries and symbols, and, above all, no soul in love with essential purity can 
possibly remain indifferent to the appeal made by the poet and, to a considerable 
degree, by the man. For any reader, falling to a fair extent under these cate- 
gories, to know Spenser at all thoroughly is to love him deeply. 

But idealists, symbolists, ethereal natures, and readers trained to enjoy the 
subtlest poetic harmonies are, and have always been, rare. This is a work-a- 
4Ciiy world actuated by a rather overpowering sense of the real. The Middle 

ix 



INTRODUCTION. 



Ages developed in what was after all a very limited class of men and women, a 
taste for allegory ; but the great national dramas killed allegory, and this benefi- 
cent result was really involved in the invention of printing and the consequent 
widening of the reading public, as well as in the recovery from classical times 
of better literary models. When Spenser decided, against Gabriel Harvey's 
advice, to abandon the writing of comedies and to continue the composition of 
The Faerie Queene, he probably made no mistake, so far as concerned his 
own genius and the world's profit ; but he unwittingly took his hand from the 
latch of the gate opening into the future. The gate he opened and entered 
admitted him into the past; but his good genius led him along a path that 
speedily emerged into the enchanted meads and vales of Faery land. Shake- 
speare, on the other hand, without Spenser's advantages of training and 
connections, but perhaps profiting from his predecessor's choice, opened the 
gate of the future. He too at times strayed into Faeryland, but never for 
long. Hence it is that Shakespeare continues to make an increasingly tri- 
umphant progress down the highway of time, while Spenser pursues his en- 
chanted wanderings. It would be rash to undertake to determine which fate is 
the more enviable. 

It is just as easy to account for the interest taken in Spenser by scholars as 
to account for the devotion of his admirers and the comparative neglect of the 
large public. He was the first poet of sustained eminence produced in England 
for nearly two centuries after Chaucer's death. He was the first poet to profit 
in full measure from the Renaissance, from the great Italian masters and from 
their less successful but still important French followers, from the labors of 
Wyatt and Surrey, and from the admirable but not sufficiently esteemed begin- 
nings made by Sackville. He added to the rich color and melody of Southern 
poetry not merely the "high seriousness" and philosophic depth of the best 
Greek classics, but the profound spiritual sincerity and the sense for the mys- 
terious and the symbolic characteristic of the Teutonic genius. He was in many 
respects a marvellously full and ripe product of the Renaissance, but he was also 
a product of the Protestant Reformation, yet at the same time an exponent of 
many of the finest ideals of the Middle Ages. In him^ cohere to a remarkable 
degree the interest attaching to the survivor and that attaching to the pioneer. 
When in addition to these facts we remember that Spenser was an important 
figure in the most brilliant and picturesque age of English history and literature, 
that he was the contemporary of Sidney and the predecessor of Marlowe and 
Shakespeare, that he was as clearly, although not so eminently, supreme in nar- 
rative, idyllic, philosophical, and loftily lyrical poetry as Shakespeare was in the 
drama, and that he was the master of an important group of seventeenth-century 
poets, including the brothers Fletcher and William Browne and culminating in 
Milton, we should be prepared to wonder not that so much scholarly study has 
been devoted to Spenser and his works, but that he has not attracted an even 
larger number of editors and critics. Nor do these considerations take into ac- 
count the interest Spenser's language, affectedly and factitiously archaic though 
it often is, must possess for philologians, or that far less commendable interest 
that attaches to the endeavor to solve such problems as who the Rosalynd of 



INTRODUCTION. 



wo Cantos of Mutabilitie " were discovered and given to the world in the 

> 1609 ; yet few critics, with the exception of Aubrey De Vere, have done 

noble cantos justice. 1 

But our question has not been altogether answered. The Faerie Queene 

probably not interesting throughout to any one, — what long poem is ? many 

l\ ask, — but at least one reader has found himself confessing at the end that 

^ '* iS: enough sheer interest in the poem to make him wonder at Spenser's 

less of invention. Passages that drag do occur with some frequency, 

equires all the beauty of the marriage of the Thames and the Medway to 

ne hope for the triumphs of art one finds in the fifth and sixth books that 

Nor is flagging of invention the only drawback. Confusion worse con- 

3i results not merely from the fact that the central conception of the poem 

understood only from Spenser's letter to Kaleigh, but also from his having 

/ed from Ariosto the trick of taking up and dropping his threads of narra- 

lis separate adventures, in order, apparently, to pique a reader's curiosity. 

confusion is enhanced by mistakes made by the poet in consequence, it 

lid appear, of lapses of memory. Worse still at times seems the mixture of 

I and of realistic elements — of allegory intended to elevate the souls of men 

if allegory devised to flatter Elizabeth, Leicester, and Lord Grey of Wilton. 

ats of knightly heroes with dragons and proud Paynim foes do not har- 

ze with thinly veiled descriptions of actual combats waged by Henry IV. 

'hilip II., much less with a partisan impeachment of Mary Queen of Scots and 

tesquely falsified version of Leicester's campaign in the Low Countries. Yet 

n all deductions have been made, it seems not impossible to forget that one is 

iing an allegory, and to interest one's self in the fortunes of nearly all Spenser's 

■haracters, even if one does not quite hold one's breath when a dragon or some 

♦tlier monster gets a hero-knight into a decidedly uncomfortable predicament. 

^: Yet, why dwell on this matter of interest when The Faerie Queene has so 

mufh that is higher and better to yield us ? Is it not, with the possible excep- 

1 In Macmillan's Magazine, Vol. XLII., Mr. Sebastian Evans argued that by 1596, 

*he da^tp of the collected " Sixe Bookes," Spenser had changed his mind as to the 

pe of his poem, and that the " Two Cantos of Mutabilitie" and the two stanzas 

ve not intended to be incorporated in The Faerie Queene. The first contention 

i-ompletely disposed of by Dr. Grosart (Vol. I., Appendix U), but the second point 

y fl open for argument. Certainly it is hard to see how Spenser could have worked 

(ivo cantos into the scheme of his poem, and it is clear that in no other cantos 

jg e so completely separated from human actors — from the brilliant knights and 

" .n ' ^" whom Spenser's imagination took such delight. Practically the best way 

_ .. jat the Cantos is to regard them, in Mr. Evans's words, " as one of the noblest 

ndependent poems of the noblest age of English poetry." But do not the lines that 

>pen the thirty-seventh stanza of the first canto almost settle it that Spenser intended 

o join these cantos to the main poem ? — 

" And were it not ill fitting for this file 
To sing of hilles and woods niongst warres and knights.'' 
it^sides, each canto is provided with the slightly doggerel epitome that is found before 
'^ canto of The Faerie Queene. Yet, after all. it is perhaps more important to 
'le plain ■• ■«" ^"'^ of the " Two Cantos 't on Keats's Hyperion. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The Shepherd^s Calendar was, or what obscure court intrigue 
glancing at in this or that canto of The Faerie Queene. 
y^--' But while it is not necessary to commend Spenser's poetry eith 
or to select readers, and while it would be futile to commend it in 
it will ever be truly popular, it does seem worth while to combat ti 
when read in any quantity his verse is necessarily tedious. This 
lent notion, combined with the idea that Spenser's archaisms m 
difficult to understand, doubtless renders the naturally contracted 
great poet's admirers still more contracted. The doubt is periodic; 
whether any one can read all that we have of The Faerie Q^uei 
the sake of being able to say one has read it, or for some other absu 
reason. People quote Macaulay's phrases about being in at the 
Blatant Beast without being aware, any more than he seemingly •< 
formidable monster made his escape, and is, for aught we know, 
the world. Lovers of Spenser, of course, reply by enlarging up 
fortunate experiences among the enchanted if tangled thickets 
allegory, but they generally encounter a polite scepticism. 

Tlie chief cause of this divergence of opinions seems to lie ir 
detractors of The Faerie Queene demand that it should interest 
its lovers are satisfied with being charmed and ennobled by it. Ttt 
may trust Schopenhauer, are the more philosophical, since it is i- 
than interest that we should demand of a true work of art. But 
difficult to read a comparatively short poem like the Prothalamio 
only, it is difficult to set aside the demand for interest in the case ( 
poem consisting of one or more narratives, whether or not these 
allegorical in character. In other words, Spenser was unwittingly h 
when he began his poem with the line : — 

" A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain." 

Another sort of pricking immediately became inevitable — that is, o 
ears. A narrative, "whether in prose or verse, at once suggests a 
story suggests the craving for interest. 

Is The Faerie Queene interesting ? As a whole, it appar( 
Some readers cannot follow the wanderings of Una and the Red < 
to their successful issue. Others can do this and can even manage t 
Guyon until he overthrows the Bower of Bliss, although it may 
whether many of these, in gratitude for the great seventh canto d 
Cave of Mammon, are able to finish the tenth canto with its '• Chron; 
Kings, From Brute to Uthers rayne." Those who finish the seco 
probably trust themselves to embark upon the third — "The Lege 
martis, or of Chastity " ; and there seems to be no special reasc 
should not survive the uneven fourth book, and the better-knit fif 
books containing, as the latter do, respectively the lofty .legend of 
his Iron Man, Talus, and^thejovely cantos describing the passion of 
the fair Pastorella. Readers who leave the Blatant Beast ranging " 
world againe " ought to be sufficier ly initiated Spenspri^nc +- ^ j, 



INTRODUCnON. xill 



tion of Comus, the purest of English poems ? Is it not the most continuous 
stream of fluic melody ever poured into the ears of men ? Is there in English a 
poem fuller of descriptive power, varied, copious, and charming ? Is there a 
poem more truly philosophical, yet at the same time more completely the product 
of a sustained poetic imagination ? Finally, is there any other long poem in 
English that comes nearer than The Faerie Queene to the consummate art of 
Paradise Lost ? 

The answers to most of these questions are scarcely matters of debate.^/ The 
exquisite purity of Spenser's entire poetical work and of his own character has 
long been admitted. Una is the quintessence of purity, but she has many almost 
equally spotless rivals. Spenser's knights are not suffered to escape the tempta- 
tions of lust, nor is their creator insensible to fleshly charms ; but it may be 
safely said that there is only x)ne stanza in the long poem to which even the most 
prurient prude would be likely to raise objections. Whether the poem is not 
almost too pure, just as it is almost too sweet in its melodies and too uniformly 
fair and romantic in its coloring, is another matter. Perhaps the atmosphere of 
The Faerie Queene is too rarefied for many people, and perhaps this is the 
reason why Spenser has long appealed especially to poets and been known as 
"the poet's poet." 

To enlarge upon the philosophical depth of Spenser's poetry, particularly of 
The Faerie Q'leene and of the four Hymns, would require both an entire essay 
and the assuiance that one could add something to Mr. De Vere's excellent 
treatment of the subject. It nuist suffice to say that Spenser's poetry is as 
steeped in Platonism as it is in the more specifically literary spirit of the classics 
and the Renaissance. Here again may be found a reason for his failure to appeal 
to more or less realistic and positivistic readers like Byron, but surely the catho- 
lic mind should be receptive to his lofty idealism. The "sage and serious" 
teacher whom Milton set above professed philosophers has a message for this 
and for every generation, although he has not the power of the Ancient Mariner 
to compel attention. Nor is his teaching by any means always veiled in allegory. 
It is often brought out by his characters and by their actions as effectively as 
though he were really a dramatist or a novelist, and there is scarcely a canto 
that does not open with a stanza weighted with noble thought. 

As for the sustained perfection of Spenser's poetic art in the broadest sense 
of the term, it is obvious that dogmatic assertions should be avoided ; yet it is 
equally obvious that, on the whole, critical opinion has placed him among the 
major poets of our tongue, and that this is never done save in the case of poets 
who are also sustained artists. It is Spenser's sustained art that places him with 
Shakespeare and Milton and Chaucer and separates him from Wordsworth and 
Byron and Shelley. That he is inferior in the totality of his powers to Shake- 
peare no one doubts. That he is inferior to Milton no one will doubt who gives 
due weight to the verdict of time or to the claims of sublime and succinct as 
compared with exquisite and diffuse art. For that Spenser is diffuse and often 
lacking in finish and, on the whole, gentle, pure, lovely, rather than sublime, in 
spite of the power displayed in the description of the Cave of Mammon, seems 
indisputable. That the deficiencies of his work from the point of view of humor, 



XIV INTRODUCTION. 



archness, and vivid realistic power of characterization and description have tended 
to place him below Chaucer in poetic rank seems equally indisputable. Yet one 
may well refuse to institute invidious comparisons between such great masters, 
or may hold that neither Chaucer nor^ Shakespeare is Spenser's equal as a 
^uniform, sustained, conscious artist. '~""' 

^ But the far from inconsiderable body of Spenser's lesser writings demands 
attention. His prose tract on Ireland and his letters may be dismissed, not 
because they are not valuable or interesting, but because Spenser is for readers 
of to-day primarily a poet. Of his minor poems, if the phrase be applicable, 
doubtless the most important to the student is The Shepherd's Calendar. 
This was not the first English pastoral in point of time, but it was the first that 
made Englishmen feel that they possessed something in this once popular form 
not only equal or superior to anything of the kind that Italy or France could 
boast of, but actually worthy of comparison with the similar work of Virgil. 
Besides, it was the first English poem since the days of Chaucer, with the pos- 
sible exception of Sackville's Induction, that indicated poetic mastery, espe- 
cially in rhythm, on the part of its writer. It was at once and long popular, 
and exercised considerable influence upon the Spenserians of the seventeenth 
century. Take it all in all, it is still probably the best collection of pastorals in 
our literature, and retains not a little of its charm, although those modern readers 
who fail to take deep interest in discussions as to the state of the church carried 
on in rustic language by clerics disguised as shepherds are not very greatly to 
blame. It is even conceivable that some persons may find the chief interest of 
the poem, outside the fables of the Oak and the Briar and the Fox and the Kid, 
to lie in the proofs it gives of Spenser's varied and admirable power as a metrist, 
and that others may prefer to study it in connection with the work of Spenser's 
predecessors, especially of Marot, who may not, after all, be so completely our 
poet's inferior as some have thought, 

A nobler and a wider appeal is made by those two supreme lyrics of their 
elaborate kind, the Epithalamion and the Prothalamion. The rapture of 
approaching fruition and the awe that accompanies the contemplation of idealized 
perfection have apparently never been so perfectly blended by any other English 
poet as they have been by Spenser in his psean for his own wedding. In outward 
form his poem was Italian, in substance and spirit it was the expression of his 
own loyal and ecstatic soul. Less of compelling rapture but more of artistically 
presented objective beauty is probably to be found in the Prothalamion which 
gains upon its companion poem in succinctness and perhaps in certain peculiar 
triumphs of cadence. Yet, after all, to prefer the Prothalamion to the Epithala- 
mion is much like preferring the moon to the sun. 

As compared with these two splendid luminaries, Spenser's Amoretti 
seem to constitute a sort of Milky Way. There is no time to compare his 
peculiarly constructed sonnets with the numerous rival sonnet-sequences of the 
epoch. They are obviously inferior to Shakespeare's, and just as obviously they 
yield no such impressive single poems as every admirer of Sidney can recall. 
They are excellent and sometimes more than excellent, but, as a whole, they 
scarcely seem to form a constellation of lyric stars. Whether as a sequence they 



II 



INTRODUCTION. XV 



rank above or below Sidney's may be a matter of doubt ; it is scarcely doubtful 
that both Drayton and Joshua Sylvester have single sonnets to their credit, nei- 
ther of which v^^ould be exchanged by some readers for any of Spenser's sonnets. 
As an elegist Spenser is not eminently successful, as readers of Daphnaida 
and Astrophel will probably admit. It is hard to see why in the latter poem 
he did not succeed better, in view of the fact that he had Sidney for a subject. 
It should be remembered, however, that this Elizabethan paragon is the subject 
of two exquisite lines : — 

*' Most gentle spirite, breathed from above 
Out of the bosome of the makers blis " 

in The Buines of Time^ a poem that contains some noble stanzas on the power 
of poetry to immortalize, and helps to convince the capable reader that nothing of 
Spenser's can safely be slighted. 

Of the poems that remain briefly to be noticed that excellent combination of 
a satire and a beast fable, Mother Hubberd's Tale, has perhaps received most 
commendation from the critics. It undoubtedly deserves high praise, and may 
be profitably compared with certain eclogues in The Shepherd^s Calendar. 
Its excellence should not, however, make us forget the descriptive power' dis- 
played in VirgiVs Gnat and in that remarkable creation of pure fancy, 
Muiopotmos, which suggests comparison with Shelley's Witch of Atlas. But 
better than these and fuller of true poetry than Mother Hubberd's Tale is 
Colin ClouVs Come Home Againe, perhaps the most remarkable example 
in English of the blending, upon an extensive scale, of occasional and familiar 
wi'th' essential poetry. If it were only a tribute of friendship from Edmund 
Spenser to Sir Walter Raleigh, it would be notable ; we should be glad to possess 
it if it gave us only the brilliant and interesting picture of Elizabeth's court ; 
but in addition it is full of pastoral beauty, and it contains a fairly superb picture 
of a gallant ship breasting the waves. It is a poem that no lover of poetry can 
afford to neglect, and one of its lines, 

" Is Triton blowing loud his wreathed home," 

suggests the thought that Wordsworth, who loved Una and The Faerie Qzieene, 
must have read other poems of Spenser's with delight and profit. 

Only one group of important lyrics remains to be mentioned — the four 
Hymns in honor of Love, of Beauty, of Heavenly Love, and of Heavenly 
Beauty. These for some reason, while dear to a few readers of Spenser, have 
never seemed to take the rank among his writings that appears to be their due. 
Perhaps their Platonism is too pronounced, perhaps they are too subtly ethereal, 
too little appealingly human. Yet it might be plausibly argued that they present 
the philosophical mind and the equably soaring imagination of Spenser more com- 
pletely than anything else he ever wrote save only the "Two Cantos of Muta- 
bilitie." However this may be, no student of Spenser can afford to leave the 
Hymns unread, and no lover of literature should with complacency admit the 
fact that he is not a student of Spenser. For not to study and love such a poet 
is a misfortune, although only a partisan would proclaim it to be a fault. 

W. P. TRENT. 

Nbw York, April 22, 1903. 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 



NOTE ON SPENSER'S LANGUAGE AND METRES. 

To the student of Chaucer the language of Spenser presents few difficulties, 
and even the student of Shakespeare is not greatly baffled by it. The general 
reader is sometimes puzzled, but perhaps more often offended by the curious 
spelling, and of course has to use a glossary oftener than is consistent with 
thorough enjoyment of the poetry. But these drawbacks diminish the more 
one reads, and are, after all, not very serious. 

As a matter of fact, Spenser's contemporaries and immediate successors found 
his language archaic, and doubtless got less pleasure out of his old forms than 
some of us moderns do, time not having then imparted to them so great an 
element of quaint charm. He wrote at a period when the language was still in 
a state of flux, but he fixed his eyes steadily upon Chaucer and the other older 
writers. He may have saved for us words that would otherwise have been lost, 
but he did not save himself from the charge of affectation, since in some par- 
ticulars his contemporaries found him more obscure than he is to us who have 
profited by some of his archaisms. Daniel hinted at his "aged accents and 
untimely words," and Ben Jonson charged him with writing "no language." 
His eighteenth-century readers were outraged by his uncouthness and modernized 
him ; in fact, he had not been dead a hundred years before his ghost appeared 
as " ancient" to Oldham as Gower's ghost had to Shakespeare. The nineteenth 
century was more hospitable to his mannerisms, but even so sympathetic a stu- 
dent as Dean Church was forced to declare, " It is not to enrich a language, but 
to confuse and spoil it, when a writer forces on it words which are not in keeping 
with its existing usages and spirit, and much more when he arbitrarily deals with 
words to make them suit the necessities of metre and rime." " He not only 
revives old words," continues Church, "but he is licentious — as far as we are 
able to trace the usages of the time — in inventing new ones. He is unscrupu- 
lous in using inferior forms for better and more natural ones, not for the sake of 
the word, but for the convenience of the verse. The transfer of words — adjec- 
tives and verbs — from their strict use to a looser one, the passage from an active 
to a neuter sense, the investing a word with new associations, . . . are, within 
limits, part of the recognized means by which language, and especially poetical 
language, extends its range. But Spenser was inclined to make all limits give 
way to his convenience and the rapidity of his work." 

The faults of affectation and haste just charged are serious ones and cannot 
be refuted. They may be easily illustrated. Spenser uses quite freely the past 
participle with ij- as a prefix, e.g. y-paynted ; he has present participles in the 
Northern and form, e.g. glitterand ; his infinitives often end in en, e.g. could 
tellen ; his plural verbs may end in the same way, e.g. they marchen ; he omits it 
with an impersonal verb, e.g. seemed for it seemed ; he has antiquated auxiliaries, 
e.g. mote for might; should for would have; and he uses such old plurals of 
nouns as /one, foes, eyne., eyes. It has been shown that many of Spenser's 
forms, words, and phrases are from the dialect of Lancashire, but while the 
employment of these might easily be defended so far as The Shepherd's Cal- 



INTRODUCTION. xvii 



endar is concerned, it is difficult to see how their frequent use in^ Spenser's 
other works can be viewed in any other light than that of affectation./ Too great 
rusticity is as much a fault as excessive archaism. It may be noted finally that 
Spenser indulges frequently in Latinisms, in undigested French forms, e.g. 
liiteresse, in accentuation nearer to that of the French and the older English 
than to that of his own day, e.g. parent, and in almost overabundant alliteration. 
With regard to Spenser's metres, full information must, of course, be sought 
in some treatise on English metrics. Here it must be sufficient to point out the 
fact that the famous Spenserian stanza used in The Faerie Queene is probably 
the most important metrical invention due to any English poet. For general 
narrative and idyllic purposes when fluidity, copiousness, picturesqueness — in 
short, blended effects of charm and power — are required, it is practically with- 
out a rival. Exactly how it came to be formed is not clear. If derived from 
the Italian ottava rima by the addition of an alexandrine, as is often suggested, 
it must Tfave dispTeased Spenser's ear at first, and caused him to introduce 
changes in his rhyme-scheme. The rhyme royal so much used by Chaucer is 
still less likely to have furnished a basis. An eight-lined stanza used by Chaucer 
with rhymes corresponding to the first eight lines of the Spenserian stanza may 
have been transformed by the addition of an alexandrine. Spenser had used 
this very combination of eight rhymes at the beginning of the eleventh eclogue 
of The ShephercVs Calendar., and curiously enough had rhymed the nine fol- 
lowing lines in such a way as to form a perfect Spenserian stanza, lacking 
only the extra foot in the ninth line. But perhaps, after all, the famous stanza 
was the result of adding an alexandrine to the octave of one of his peculiarly 
constructed sonnets. However it came into existence, it was a remarkable dis- 
covery for English poetry ; but it would not be fair to Spenser not to observe 
that in addition to the great metrical variety and skill displayed in The Shep- 
herd's Calendar he must be credited with admirable mastery of the rhyme 
royal (the Hymns), the ottava rima (VirgiVs Gnat), the heroic couplet 
(Mother HubbenVs Tale), as well as of complicated rhyme arrangements based 
upon Italian models and of sundry peculiarly lyrical stanzas. The original 
though not altogether satisfactory structure of his sonnets has been already 
noticed ; his Epithnlamion is almost a strict example of the difficult Italian 
canzone. A negative proof of his metrical superiority to his contemporaries is 
to be seen in his disdain of the popular and doggerel " poulter's measure." In 
short, it is only in blank verse and truly singing stanzas that Spenser yields to 
any of his great rivals, and he cannot be absolutely proved to have attempted 
the former. But on6 could fill a long chapter with a discussion of Spenser's 
metrical and rhythmical achievements, just as one could with a discussion of 
the fortunes of his famous stanza — its enlargement and spoiling at the hands of 
Prior, its revival by Thomson, its culmination in the hands of Keats. 



xviii INTRODUCTION. 



BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE. 

The chief editions of Spenser published within the past one hundred years 
are those by the Rev. H. J. Todd (1805), by George H. Hillard (1839), by Pro- 
fessor F. J. Child (1855), by J. P. Collier (1862, reprinted in the new " Aldine 
Poets"), by Dr. Richard Morris (with a memoir by Professor J. W. Hales, — 
the " Globe Edition," 1865), and, most monumental of all, by Dr. Alexander B. 
Grosart for the Spenser Society (10 vols. 1880-1882). All the above editions 
are furnished with useful memoirs, Dr. Grosart's amounting to a thick book. 
To these sources should be added Gabriel Harvey's Letter-book (Camden Society) 
and his Works (edited by Grosart). The best life is that by Dean Church in 
the " English Men of Letters " (1879). The fullest study of the works of Spenser 
is contained in George L. Craik's Spenser and His Poetry (3 vols., revised 
edition, 1871). For the point of view of an eighteenth-century admirer, see 
Thomas Warton's Observations on The Faerie Qiieene (1752-1762). Various 
valuable critical essays are contained in Dr. Grosart's edition, notably those by 
Aubrey De Vere, Professor Dowden, Professor Palgrave, and Mr. Edmund 
Gosse. Some of these essays have been published separately by their authors, 
e.g. De Vere's Ussaijs, Chiefly on Poetry. In addition, the reader may be 
referred to the article on Spenser in the Dictionary of National Biography, to 
Lowell's essay (Works, IV.), to Church's (Ward's English Poets, I.), to the 
papers by Professor Wilson (BlackicoocVs, 1834-1835), to Saintsbury's Histoid 
of Elizabethan Literature, to Taine, to Morley's English Writers (Vol. IX.), 
to Hazlitt's Lectures on the English Poets, to Sir Walter Scott's Critical 
and Miscellaneous Essays, to J. S. Hart's Essay on the Life and Writings of 
Edmund Spenser (1847), to the Rev. F. D. Maurice's Friendship of Books, 
and for an essay on Spenser's heroines, to Dowden's Studies and Transcripts, 
where his essay on "Spenser the Poet and Teacher," originally contributed to 
Grosart's edition of Spenser, will also be found. The late Dean Kitchin edited 
Books I. and II. of The Faerie Qneene for the Clarendon Press, with a critical 
apparatus useful to students. The poem entitled " Brittain's Ida," erroneously 
attributed to Spenser, may be found in Collier's edition and also in Dr. Grosart's 
edition of the works of Phineas Fletcher. 



LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSEK. 

Edmund Spenser marked the beginning of a great national literature for 
England. He ushered in a group of writers who lifted that country's letters 
from a commonplace plane to a height which has been unsurpassed during three 
centuries of continuous literary effort. 

After the death of Chaucer — the father of English literature and Spenser's 
great exemplar — the promise of dawn also passed away, extinguished by the 
twofold cause of the Wars of the Roses and the rise of the Reformation. But 
the two centuries of gloom in turn gave way, in the latter part of the sixteenth 
century, to a splendid burst of new light, with Spenser as its herald. It was the 
great century of the Reformation, which began with Henry VIII. and ended with 
Elizabeth ; and Spenser's life extended over the latter half of this century — 
from 1552 to 1599. It was a time marked by a tremendous quickening of the 
national pulse. Statecraft, conquest, and adventure flourished as never before, 
and the. life of letters also gained new vigor. 

'-•Spenser was contemporary with Sidney, Raleigh, and Hooker, while Bacon 
and Shakespeare were born just ten years later. In France it was the day of 
Montaigne and Rabelais, while Italy had but recently lost Ariosto and Machia- 
velli. The literary splendor of these two countries had outshone that of 
England up to this time, but now met a powerful rival. 

^.-'•'iThe birth-date of Spenser is not a settled point, but varies between 1552 and 
1551, with probability inclining to the foi;mer year. In Sonnet 60 of his Amo- 
retti the poet declared that the year since he had fallen in love (1592) had 
seemed longer to him "then al those fourty which my life outwent." His life, 
therefore, began during the closing months of Edward VI. 's reign. His infancy 
was passed during the bloody days of Queen Mary. And Elizabeth ascended 
the throne when the future poet was six. 

Londpjo, was his birthplace. For this fact we have the poet's own testimony. 
In Prothalamion he speaks of — 

" Mery London, my most kyndly nurse, 
That to me gave this lifes first native sourse, 
Though from another place I take my name, 
An house of auncieut fame." 

This other place to which Spenser refers is near Burnley in northeast Lan- 
cashire. As early as the thirteenth century there was a freehold at Hurstwood, 
three miles from Burnley, pertaining to a Spenser, and this seems to be the 
original settlement of the family. The entire house stood well. Sir John Spen- 

xix 



XX LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. 

cer was the poet's cousin, according to Edmund's words in Colin Clout, and 
the later Spencers and Churchills were also allied to this house. In the reign of 
Elizabeth its head bore the name of Edmund. He died in 1587, having been 
twice married, and having had a son John by each wife. Both the Johns mar- 
ried, and each had a son Edmund. It is this duality of Johns and Edmunds 
which has confused biographers in tracing the lineage of the poet. His heredi- 
tary connection with the Lancashire district is, however, abundantly corroborated 
by his dialect. 

It is also pretty well determined that his father was John Spenser, "a gen- 
tleman by birth," who had removed to London, where he was "a free journey- 
man" in the "art and mystery of cloth-making" in the service of Nicholas 
Peele of Bow Lane. There were but two other Spensers in London at this time, 
and both of them were well-to-do. But since the poet was a beneficiary student 
in his boyhood, it is probable that this modest tailor was his father. His 
mother's name was Elizabeth, as the poet himself says in Sonnet 74. His 
parents were living in East Smithfield — according to Oldys the antiquary 
— when Edmund was born. He was the oldest child, there being a brother, 
Joim, and probably a sister, Sarah. 

Edmund's education began at the Merchant Taylor's School. He probably 
entered it tlie year it opened, loGl, Nicholas Spenser, a man of considerable 
wealth, was warden of the company ; and Edmund's name is mentioned more 
than once as having received a part of sums " geven to poor schoUers of dyvers 
gramare scholles," in a bequest of Robert Nowell's. In 1569 he is further 
mentioned as receiving a gown and entering Pembroke Hall (now College), 
Cambridge, where he matriculated the 20th of May. 

At college Spenser read widely and was a good linguist, delving into Greek, 
Latin, French, and Italian. Chaucer of his own tongue he studied and ever 
after loved ; while his later writings betrayed easy familiarity with Homer, 
Theocritus, Plato, Virgil, Cicero, Tasso, Petrarch, Ariosto, Du Bellay, and 
Marot. Such wide reading places him near Milton, and with Gray and Jonson 
among the learned English poets. 

Spenser's earliest known literary efforts began at college, and took the form 
of translations from Petrarch and Du Bellay. They were published in A Thea- 
tre for Worhllhjgs, which appeared in July, 1569. It is probable, therefore, that 
Spenser had tried his hand at writing even before he went to Cambridge. The 
Theatre itself was a bitter invective against popery, published by one John Van 
Der Noodt, who had sought refuge in England. The time was the internecine 
war waged between Pius V. and Elizabeth. The cause of Mary Queen of Scot' 
was in people's minds, and church feeling ran high. It is interesting to not 
in this connection, the stand taken by Spenser, in writing for a Protestant book, 
although his translations could not be called polemical. The poet was Puritan 
in tendency all his life, but lacked the earnestness and enthusiasm which dis- 
tinguished Milton. 

Spenser's name was not identified with the twenty stanzas from Petrarch and 
Du Bellay published in the Theatre. But in 1591 they appeared again, in 
revised form, in his Complaynts. 



LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. xxi 



The young poet made some lasting and influential friends while at college. 
Among the men he knew were John Still, afterwards Bishop of Bath and Wells ; 
Lancelot Andrews, afterwards famous as Bishop of Winchester ; John Young, 
afterwards Bishop of Rochester and characterized as "the faithful Roffy " in 
The Shepheardes Calender; Thomas Preston; Gabriel Harvey; and Edward 
Ivirke. The last two were especially intimate with him. In later life his corre- 
spondence with Harvey brings to light many details of the poet's life. Harvey 
also introduced him in London, while Kirke edited his Shepheardes Calender. 

In his college course, as at school, Spenser was assisted by private bequests. 
He is mentioned several times in the lists and also on the records of illness, 
which show that he was no richer in health than in worldly goods. But he took 
his degree of B.A. in 1573 and "commenced M.A." in 1576. His college days 
passed quietly and busily, although there is some slight ground for believing 
that his relations with the Pembroke faculty were not always pleasant. Plarvey 
seems to indicate as much in later letters ; but Harvey was always a man of 
moods. Spenser speaks in praise of Cambridge in Faerie Queene (Book 4, 
canto 11), but is silent about Pembroke. 

After leaving college, the poet went on a visit to his kindred in Hurst- 
wood. He was then about twenty-four and fixed in his ambition to become a 
writer. This ambition had been confided to his friends Harvey and Kirke, both 
of whom encouraged and assisted him. Spenser spent about one year in the north 
— a memorable year to him, for he fell deeply in love with a " Rosalynd," who, 
however, disdained his suit. Many attempts have been made to discover the 
identity of this Rosalynd who wrought such havoc in the poet's heart, one con- 
jecture being that she was a Rosa Dinley. Kirke asserts that she was " a gen- 
tlewoman of no mean house." Be that as it may, the spurned lover's grief and 
despair bore large fruit in The Shepheardes Calender of 1579, and lasted until 
Colin Clout in 159L To Rosalynd he poured forth all his complaints, until he 
met the Elizabeth, who was more yielding. 

During the few months spent in the north after leaving college, his friend 
Harvey was writing for him to come to London to try his fortune ; and to London 
he went, poor in purse, but rich in wit, just as Shakespeare was to go a few 
years later. Harvey introduced Spenser to Sir Philip Sidney, himself a literary 
aspirant, who took a great liking to the young Lancashire writer from the outset, 
and who introduced him in turn to his uncle, the Earl of Leicester, powerful 
court favorite and patron of letters. Leicester took Spenser into his household, 
employing him, as a correspondent. 

This was in 1579. But Spenser seems to have been in Ireland for a short 
time before coming to London ; for in his View of the Present State of Ireland 
he speaks — as though he saw it — of the "execution of a notable tray tor at 
Limmericke, called Murrogh O'Brien," which occurred in July, 1577. However, 
he was certainly back in London by October, 1570, for he dates one of his letters 
to Harvey " Leycester House." His acquaintances in London at this time show 
him to have been a man of already recognized genius, and he probably moved in 
the most brilliant society. His friend Sidney, for whom he always had a deep 
and ten<ler affectioii. was a mirror of courtesy and breeding, Another friend 



1^ 



xxil LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. 

was Sir Edward Dyer, who joined him and Sidney with others to form a small 
litera-ry club called the " Areopagus." 

it was in this same momentous year of 1579 that Spenser's first important 
work appeared. Its title-page was as follows: "The Shepheardes Calender: 
Conteyning Twelve ^glogues, Proportionable to the Twelve Monethes. Entitled 
to the noble and vertuous Gentleman most worthy of all titles both of learning 
and chevalrie, M. Philip Sidney. At London. Printed by Hugh Singleton, 
dwelling in Creede Lane neere vnto Ludgate at the Signe of the gylden Tunne, 
and are there to be solde, 1579." The prefatory verse is modestly signed " Im- 
merito." " E. K." — afterwards pretty definitely identified as Kirke — con- 
tributed an introductory letter to Gabriel Harvey, commending the Calender 
and defending its archaisms. The twelve Eclogues dealt with Spenser's disap- 
pointment in love, church questions, and other topics. The text refers frequently 
to Chaucer as Tityrus, god of the Shepherds. Queen Elizabeth is alluded to as 
Fair Elisa ; Anne Boleyn, as Syrinx ; Kirke, as Cuddle ; Harvey, as Hobbinol ; 
and Spenser, himself, as Colin Clout. 

The poetic qualities of The Shepheardes Calender speedily brought the 
author into general notice. Sidney mentioned him in h\^ Apologie for Poetrie. 
Other authors of the time also praised him, among them Drayton, who said, 
"Maister Edmund Spenser has done enough for the immortality of his name 
had he only given us his Shepheardes Calender^ a masterpiece, if any." 

Nor was this poem his only essay in writing at the period bordering on 1580. 
He contributed two Letters to a volume published by Bynneman. While from 
correspondence which passed between him and Harvey, and from editorial notes 
by Kirke, it appears that Spenser was seeking a publisher for several other works : 
Dreames, Legends^ Court of Cupid, The English Poet, The Dying Pelican, 
Stemmata Dudleiana, Slomher, Nine English Comedies, and Thamesis. Of 
these works, The Dying Pelican, Stemmata Dudleiana, and the Nine English 
Comedies, have perished ; if published, no trace of them can now be found. The 
others were probably changed and introduced into The Faerie Queene, which 
masterpiece was also begun at this time. Spenser was evidently doubtful of his 
prowess in this new and bold venture, for he sent some of the Ms. to Harvey for 
criticism. On April 10, 1580, he writes the latter, asking him to return it with 
his "long-expected judgment" upon it. Harvey replies : " In good faith I had 
once againe nigh forgotten your Faerie Queene : howbeit, by good chaunce, I have 
nowe sent hir home at the laste. ... To be plaine, I am voyde of al judgement, 
if your Nine Comedies, whereunto, in imitation of Herodotus, you give the 
names of the Nine Muses, and (in one man's fansie not unworthily), come not 
neerer Ariostoes Comedies, eyther for the finenesse of plausible elocution, or the 
rareness of poetical invention, then that Elvish queene doth to his Orlando 
Furioso. ... If so be the Faery e Queen be fairer in your eie than the Nine 
Muses, and Hobgoblin runne away with the garland from Apollo : marke what 
I saye, and yet I will not say that I thought, but there an end for this once, and 
fare you well, till God or some good Aungell putte you in a better minde." 

But it was not to be expected that Harvey should appreciate Tlie Faerie 
Queene, for it represented a different school from that which he had been. 



LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. 



vigorously advocating. He had urged Spenser to cling to hexameter verse, 
in imitation of Greek and Latin models ; and Spenser did make an attempt at 
this sort of writing, but fortunately gave it up, choosing instead to wander un- 
trammelled in the realms of fancy where he found the true expression of his 
genius. 

Harvey and Spenser stood in interesting contrast with each other and with 
Shakespeare at this parting of the ways in English letters. Harvey represented 
the narrow scholasticism which adhered slavishly to accepted cults of other 
tongues ; Spenser broke awa^y from the old schools of style, but wrote in the 
spirit of the past, and of a chivalry which had nearly vanished ; wiiile Shake- 
speare looked always forward in both thought and expression, thus opening wide 
the gates leading from mediaeval to modern letters. The contrast is all the better 
seen if one but stops to compare Sidney's Apologie for Poetrie, oi 1581, and 
Puttenham's Treaties^ of 1589, with the magnificent output of ten years later, 
when Marlowe, Shakespeare, and their brilliant group of dramatists had 
launched their work. England was no longer the backward literary nation, for 
whom Apologies and Defences were needed, but the prince and leader of them all. 

A decade was to pass, however, before the beginning of Spenser's greatest 
effort should be seen by the world. Meantime his worldly affairs took an im- 
portant turn. For two or three years the poet had been under Leicester's 
patronage, and constantly hoping for some substantial preferment. In October, 
1579, he was daily in expectation of being sent to France ; but it seems that 
he did not go. In disappointment he cast about for a new patron, and 
found him in the person of Arthur, Lord Grey of Wilton, who went to Ireland 
as its Lord Deputy on August 12, 1580. Spenser obtained a post as secretary 
with Lord Grey, and went with him to Ireland, where he was to make his home 
for the concluding eighteen years of his life. 

The new Lord Deputy found the country turbulent and riotous, and employed 
vigorous measures to restore order. He got the reputation for being pitiless, 
and the Home Government soon grew hostile to his rule. He was recalled in 
1582. Spenser, however, upheld his methods and seemed to think that he 
pursued the right course. But Spenser was never friendly to the Irish. 
He mentioned Grey with respect in his View of the Present State of Ire- 
land, published several years later ; and he praised him in Faerie Queene, as 
Artegall, Knight of Justice, met on his return home by the hags Envy and 
Detraction. 

And Grey, on his part, was friendly to his secretary. Spenser's name is on 
Grey's list of sharers in confiscated lands during the rebellion at Dublin. On 
March 22, 1581, he was appointed Clerk of Decrees and Recognizances, a posi- 
tion said to have been lucrative. In the same year he leased the abbey and 
manor oi Enniscorthy, Wexford County, but held this only until the end of the 
year, when he transferred it to a Richard Synot. Later he received a grant of 
three thousand acres, the manor and castle of Kilcolman, a forfeited estate of the 
Earl of Desmond, under the Galtee Hills. This became the poet's home after 
1586, and it is believed that his sister Sarah kept house for him until he met the 
Elizabeth of later years. The castle was in a tumble-down condition, but beau- 



LIPE OF EDMUND SPENSER. 



tifully situated. In 1774 Charles Smith described it in his History of the 
County and City of Cork as follows : — 

*'Two miles north-west of Doneraile is Kilcoleman, a ruined castle of the 
Earls of Desmond, but more celebrated for being the residence of the immortal 
Spenser, when he composed his divine poem, The Faerie Queene. The castle 
is now almost level with the ground, and was situated on the north side of a fine 
lake, in the midst of a vast plain, terminated to the east by the county of Water- 
ford mountains ; Bally-howra hills to the north, or, as Spenser terms them, the 
mountains of Mole, Nagle mountains to the south,. and the mountains of Kerry 
to the west. It commanded a view of above half the breadth of Ireland ; and 
must have been, when the adjacent uplands were wooded, a most pleasant and 
romantic situation ; from whence, no doubt, Spenser drew several parts of the 
scenery of his poem." 

The poet's official positions and grants thus afforded him sufficient means and 
opportunity to continue work on his great poem. In 1588, after having held his 
appointment as Clerk of Decrees for seven years, he received the office of Clerk 
to the Council of Munster. In 1589 he pleasantly renewed his acquaintance with 
Sir Walter Raleigh, whom he had probably met formerly in London. Raleigh 
visited him at Kilcolman, and was shown the fii.:t three books of TTie Faerie 
Queene. He was delighted. As the poet said in Colin Clouts 

" He gan to cast great Ij'king to my lore, 
And great dislyking to my lucklesse lot, 
That banisht had my selfe, like wight forlore, 
Into that waste, where I was quite forgot." 

It will also be seen from this quotation how discontented Spenser had been 
with- life in Ireland. He did not want to be " quite forgot " either at court or in 
letters. It therefore needed no great urging on the part of Raleigh to get him 
turned Londonward. Raleigh insisted that he present what he had already done 
to the queen, and get a publisher for it ; afterwards he could bring out further 
books, while reaping the benefits of the first three. 

In October, 1589, Spenser accordingly proceeded to London, where Raleigh 
presented him to the queen. He found both a royal welcome and a publisher. 
The latter was William Ponsonby, who brought the poem out in quarto form in 
1590. The title-page bore : " The Faerie Queene. Disposed into Twelue Bookes, 
Fashioning XII Morall Vertues." But, as above stated, only three of the 
twelve books were printed — those devoted to " Holiness," " Temperaunce," and 
"Chastity." The dedication was a sonorous compliment to Queen Elizabeth. 
This was followed by a prefatory letter to Raleigh ; then by six poems of com- 
mendation, two being by Raleigh and one by Harvey, who at last saw some 
good in the work ; finally, by seventeen sonnets by the author, addressed to 
various lords and ladies, one of the former being Lord Grey. 

The Faerie Queene met with immediate and widespread favor, especially 
among the cultured class, for whom it was primarily intended. The reason is 
not far to seek. Aside from the high merit of the poem, it was, barring The 
S?i6pheardes Calender^ the first sustained effort in poetry for two centuries. 



LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. XXV 

Spenser was hailed on all sides as the great poet of the time. Shakespeare is 
thought to praise him in The Passionate Pilgrim. Thomas Nash — fierce 
pamphleteer though he was — called him the "heavenly Spenser," and extolled 
the "Faerie singer's stately tuned verse." Naturally, also, many attacked 
him for his archaisms and inventions, but praise greatly preponderated. The 
queen granted him an annual pension of fifty pounds, and, according to some 
authorities, the poet-laureateship ; but this last fact is disputed. A second 
edition of the poem was published in 1596, and the second three books in 1595. 

The great popularity of the first edition of The Faerie Queene led the pub- 
lisher to collect a volume of Spenser's fugitive shorter poems, entitled Com- 
playnts which Ponsonby published, with a brief word of explanation, in 1590. 
The book contained l^he Buines of Time, The Teares of the Muses, and seven 
other poems, probably revised efforts of youth, among them Bellayes Visions 
and Petrarches Visions, which last two, it will be remembered, were published in 
different form in the poet's college days. The Buines of Time bore a dedica- 
tion to the Countess of Pembroke, and showed that the poem was, in fact, an 
elegy on the death of Sir Philip Sidney, which occurred in 1586. It also lamented 
the deaths of Leicester, Warwick, and Walsick, and incidentally brought in stric- 
tures on Lord Burghley, a co".rt enemy of Spenser's. The poet later memorial- 
ized his friend Sidney in a short poem, Astrophel, which headed a collection of 
elegies by other hands. 

Although Spenser enjoyed his success and the society of his old friends in 
London, he was disgruntled at his lack of substantial recognition. His pension 
was meagre — having been cut down from a better figure which the queen had at 
first decided upon. And he failed in his efforts to secure more congenial employ- 
ment, either at home or in Ireland. Accordingly, he returned to Kilcolman in 
1591. His first poem written after he went back was Colin Clouts Come Home 
Againe, with dedication dated December 27, 1591. It is a vivid description, 
under fictitious names, of the various litterateurs whose sympathy he had won. 
Allusion may have been made to Shakespeare under the name of Action. The 
poem was not published till 1595, when it was addressed to his valuable friend 
Raleigh. 

Colin Clout has a personal interest, in that it chronicled the poet's last 
sigh for his early love, Rosalynd. Comfort was near at hand. In less than 
a twelvemonth the lonely bachelor fell in love with a lady by the name of Eliza- 
beth. She was well born, possibly being the daughter of Richard Boyle, first 
Earl of Cork. But it was only after several more months of weary waiting and 
heart-sore complainings — which bore good fruit in a series of eighty -eight sonnets 
— that the lady consented to bless his life. On June 11, 1594, they were married, 
and the happy event was celebrated by the poet in his Epithalamion, one of the 
loftiest lyrics in literature on this theme. 

Meantime, during his courtship, troubles of a more prosaic nature cropped 
up to harass the poet. He became involved in a lawsuit over some lands with 
Lord Roche, a neighbor of his, and the judgment went against Spenser. 

In 1594 he sent his Epithalamion and Amoretti to a publisher, and also 
completed three more books of The. Faerie Oueeue — those orx "Friendship." 



xxvi LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. 

" Justice," and " Courtesie," which were entered by Ponsonby in 1595. Spenser 
may have made this the occasion for another visit to London. He was on terms 
of intimacy with the Earl of Essex, then the favorite at court, and it is probable 
that he would seize every opportunity to mingle with the gentlemen and brilliant 
literary workers of the day. 

The second section of The Faerie Queene was even more highly considered than 
the first. Spenser's position as chief among poets of the day was unquestioned. 
He was read and quoted on all sides. The first three books went into another 
printing to supply the demand. England was, in fact, just beginning to realize 
the richness of her literary era. Marlowe, Shakespeare, and Jonson had pre- 
sented a group of great plays, and Bacon's Essays and Hooker's Ecclesiastical 
Polity were soon to appear. 

A single incident will show the prominence of The Faerie Queene. In 
Book IV. — "Friendship," — the poet dealt unsympathetically with the fate of 
Mary Queen of Scots, whom he portrayed under the name of Duessa. James VL 
of Scotland made this the text of an official complaint to the English ambassador 
at Edinburgh, as he felt it to be dishonoring to his mother. Bowes, the ambas- 
sador, repeated the king's complaint to Burghley, who was never friendly to 
Spenser, and urged that he be punished. But Essex and other friends of Spenser 
were powerful enough to protect him. 

On November 8, 1596, the two daughters of the Earl of Worcester were mar- 
ried. In honor of this double event Spenser composed his last poem, Prothala- 
mion^ a companion piece, to some extent, of his Epithalamion, and a poem of 
rare beauty and melody. 

About this time also Spenser wrote A View of the Present State of Ire- 
land, which circulated to some extent in manuscript form, but was not pub- 
lished until 1633, a long while after his death. This work was in prose, and 
endeavored to exhibit, dialogue-wise, the unhappy and troubled condition of the 
country. It was unfriendly, severe, and uncharitable to the Irish, between whom 
and himself there was never any love lost. Their dislike of him was perhaps 
only directed to Englishmen in general who held forfeited Irish estates, but it 
was soon to wreak a heavy vengeance. Though Spenser was one 

" Whom sullein care 
Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay 
In princes court and expectation vayne 
Of idle hopes which still doe fly away 
Like empty shadows, did afflict," 

he still had his quiet estate with its beautiful surroundings. He could not, there- 
fore, be accounted poverty-stricken, though he was undoubtedly a disappointed 
man. Now, however, he was to lose his home. 

He returned to Kilcolman in 1597, and the year following was appointed 
sheriff of Cork. This was just before a great Irish insurrection — long smoulder- 
ing — burst forth. Eight thousand clansmen under the leadership of the Earl of 
Desmond suddenly arose and overran the county of Cork. A panic seized the 
English officials, and all that could fled. We may be sure that Desmond did not 



LIFE OF EDMUND SPENSER. xxvii 

forget his forfeited estate or its holder. Spenser was surprised, but made a 
hurried flight from his home to Cork, taking with him his wife and four children. 
The home was burned to the ground, and Ben Jonson states that one of 
Spenser's children, evidently a fifth, perished in the flames, — a statement dis- 
puted by later authorities. Once at Cork, Spenser wrote the queen concerning 
the insurrection, urging her to show " these vile caitiffs " the terror of her wrath. 

Sir Thomas Norreys (or Norris), President of Munster, drew up an official 
report of the rebellion, which was intrusted to Spenser to deliver. On Decem- 
ber 9, 1598, the poet accordingly returned to London for the last time. He came 
broken down in health and completely unstrung by all the privations he had 
undergone. He took to his bed in an inn on King Street, Westminster, where 
he passed away January 16, 1599. Ben Jonson's story that he died of starvation 
and that Essex sent him money which was refused is now generally dismissed as 
not plausible. The two facts alone that he was a court ambassador and had a 
pension would refute it. But his whole life had been a struggle. Fletcher said, 
" Poorly^ j)Oor man, he lived ; poorly, poor man, he died." 
'''^e was buried in Westminster Abbey by friends headed by Essex. His 
grave^is at the south transept near Chaucer, the Tityrus whom he had delighted 
to honor. The queen ordered a monument to be erected over him, but again 
one of her agents unfriendly to Spenser intercepted her wishes. In 1620 Anne 
Clifford, Countess of Dorset, paid forty pounds for a monument. It bore the 
following inscription : " Heare Lyes (Expecting the Second Comminge of our 
Saviour Jesus) the body of Edmund Spenser, the Prince of Poets in his Tyme, 
whose divine Spirit needs noe othir Witnesse then the Works which he left 
behinde him. He was borne in London in the yeare 1550 [1552] and died in 
theyear 1596 [1599]." 

A rumor was current, several years after the poet's death, that the remaining 
six of the contemplated twelve books of The Faerie Queene were burnt or 
lost during the poet's hurried flight from Kilcolman. But it is unlikely that 
they were more than begun. Two cantos of one book showed that they were in 
contemplation only ; and these cantos were included with a reprinting of the 
first six books in 1611, 

Spenser's widow married again in 1603, her second husband being Roger 
Seckerstone. Till a recent day the family of the Spensers could be found in Ire- 
land, The poet was spoken of by Aubrey as being a little man, who wore short 
hair, little bands, and little cuffs. When a young man, Harvey bantered him 
on the fullness of his beard. Four reputed portraits of him exist. 

His greatest claim to literary homage lies in his influence over succeed- 
ing writers, Coleridge, Southey, Scott, Wordsworth, Burns, Campbell, Keats, 
and Shelley are among the poets representing diverging schools who yet gave 
allegiance to him, "No other of our poets," wrote Lowell, "has given an 
impulse, and in the right direction also, to so many and so diverse minds. It 
was because of this noble trait of suggestion that Lamb bestowed upon him the 
title by which he is now generally known, of ' the poets' poet,' " 

J. Walker McSpadden. 



■■ 



THE FAERIE QVEENE. 

DISPOSED INTO TWELUE BOOKS, 

FASHIONING 

XXL MORALL VERTUES. 



TO 

THE MOST HIGH, MIGHTIE, AND MAGNIFICENT 

EMPRESSE, 

RENOWMED FOR PIETIE, VERTVE, AND ALL GRATIOVS GOVERNMENT, 

ELIZABETH, 

BY THE GRACE OF GOD, 

(Sbecnc of (Knglanti, jFrabnce, anU 3Irelanti, anti of Virginia, 
©efcntioljr of tije JFaitfj, &c. 

HER MOST HVMBLE SERVAVNT 

EDMVND SPENSER, 

DOTH, IN ALL HVMILITIE, 

DEDICATE, PRESENT, AND CONSECRATE 
THESE HIS LABOVRS, 

TO LIVE WITH THE ETERNITIE OF HER FAME.^ 



1 In the first edition of 1590 the Dedication was as follows : — 

To the most Mightie and Magnificent Empresse Elizabeth, by the Grace of God 
Qveene of England, France and Ireland Defender of the Faith &c. 

Her most humble Seruant : 

Ed. Spenser. 



A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS, 

EXPOUNDING HIS WHOLE INTENTION IN THE COURSE OF THIS WORKE : WHICH, 

FOR THAT IT GIVETH GREAT LIGHT TO THE READER, FOR THE 

BETTER UNDERSTANDING IS HEREUNTO ANNEXED. 

Co tfte 2^igj)t Noble anti Ualoroug 
SIR WALTER RALEIGH, Knight, 

LORD WARDEIN OF THE STANNERYES, AND HER MAIESTIES LIEFETENAUNT 
OF THE COUNTY OF CORNEWAYLL. 

Sir, knowing how doubtfully all Allegories may be " 
booke of mine, which I have eutituled the Faery O 
Allegory, or darke conceit, I haue thought f 
gealous opinions and misconstructions, as "' 
lug thereof, (being so by yoii commari'^ 
intention and meaning, which in t^ 
without expressing of any part^ 
sioned. jThe generall end th'^ 
or noble person in vertuoi^ 
shoulde be most plau"^ ' 
fiction, the which 
matter then fo- 
as most fit*^ 
mens fo 
pition 
histo 
hath 
the 
the 
O 
ii 



4 A LETTER OF THE "AUTHORS. 

poiirtraict in Arthure, before he was king, the image of a brave knight, 
perfected in the twelve private morall vertues, as Aristotle hath devised : 
the which is the purpose of these first twelve bookes : which if I finde i > 
be w^ell accepted, I ma}" be perhaps encoraged to frame the other part oi. 
polliticke vertues in his person, after that hee came to be king. 

To some, I know, this jNIethode will see me displeasaunt, which had rath( 
have good discipline delivered plainly in way of precepts, or sermoned £ 
large, as they use, then thus clowdily enwrapped in Allegoricall devise; 
But such, me seeme, should be satisfide with the use of these dayes, seein 
all things accounted by their showes, and nothing esteemed of, that is nc' 
delightfull and pleasing to commune sence. For this cause is Xenopho 
preferred before Plato, for that the one, in the exquisite depth of his judge 
ment, formed a Commune welth, such as it should be; but the other in th 
person of Cyrus, and the Persians, fashioned a governement, such as migh 
best be : So much more profitable and gratious is doctrine by ensample 
then by rule. So haue I laboured to doe in the person of Arthure : whom' 
I conceive, after his long education by Timon, to whom he was by Merli; 
delivered to be brought up, so soone as he was borne of the Lady Igrayne 
^^ave scene in a dream or vision the Faery Queen, with whose excellen 
--^ he awaking resolved to seeke her out; and so being b; 
• Timon thoroughly instructed, he went to seeke he. 
^hat Faery Queen e I meane glory in my general. 
I conceive the most excellent and gloriou-. 
and her kingdome in Faery land. And 
-^ shadow her. For considering she 
royall Queene or Empresse, the 
^dy, this latter part in sonn 
'^r name according to you) 
nthia being both name; 
forth magnificence 
^e and the rest} 
^11, therefore 
'^ to thai 
•tues, 1 
.tory 

les : 
ird 



A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS. 



of an Historiographer. For an Historiographer discourseth of affayres 
orderly as they were donne, accounting as well the times as the actions; but 
c Poet thriisteth into the uiiddest, even where it most concerneth him, and 
there recoursing to the thiuges forepaste, and divining of thinges to come, 
maketh a pleasing Analysis of all. 

',} The beginning therefore of my history, if it were to be told by an Histo- 
riograph.er should be the twelfth booke, which is the last ; where I devise 
that the Faery Queene kept her Annuall feaste xii. dayes; uppon which 
xii. severall dayes, the occasions of the xii. severall adventures hapned, 
which, being undertaken by xii. severall knights, are in these xii. books 
severally handled and discoursed. The first was this. In the beginning of 
the feast, there presented him selfe a tall clownishe younge man, who falling 
before the Queene of Faries desired a boone (as the manner then was) 
which during that feast she might not refuse ; which M'as that hee might 
tiave the atchievement of any adventure, which during that feaste should 
happen : that being graunted, he rested him on the floore, unfitte through 
his rusticity for a better place. Soone after entred a faire Ladye in mourn- 
ng weedes, riding on a white Asse, with a dwarf e behind her leading a 
Avarlike steed, that bore the Armes of a knight, and his speare in the 
Iwarfes hand. Shee, falling before the Queene of Faeries, complayned that 
:ier father and mother, an ancient King and Queene, had bene by an huge 
Iragon many years shut up in a brasen Castle, who thence suffred them not 
o yssew ; and therefore besought the Faery Queene to assygne her some 
)ne of her knights to take on him that exployt. Presently that clownish 
)erson, upstarting, desired that adventure : whereat the Queene much won- 
lering, and the Lady much gainesaying, yet he earnestly importuned his 
lesire. In the end the Lady told him, that unlesse that armour which she 
orought, would serve him (that is, the armour of a Christian man specified 
;iy Saint Paul, vi. Ephes.) that he could not succeed in that enterprise ; 
which being forthwith put upon him with dewe furnitures thereunto, he 
.seemed the goodliest man in al that company, and was well liked of the 
Lady. And eftesoones taking on him knighthood, and mounting on that 
jtraunge Courser, he went forth M^th her on that adventure: where be- 
ginneth the first booke, viz. 

A gentle knight was pricking on the playne. &c. 

The second day ther came in a Palmer, bearing an Infant with bloody 
hands, whose Parents he complained to have bene slayn by an Enchaunter- 
esse called Acrasia ; and therfore craved of the Faery Queene, to appoint 
him some knight to performe that adventure ; which being assigned to Sir 
Guyon, he presently went forth with that same Palmer : which is the 
beginning of the second booke, and the whole subject thereof. The third 



A LETTER OF THE AUTHORS. 



day there came in a Groome, who complained before the Faery Queene, 
that a vile Enchaunter, called Busirane, had in hand a most faire Lady, 
called Amoretta, whom he kept in most grievous torment, because she 
would not yield him the pleasure of her body. Whereupon Sir Scudamour, 
the lover of that Lady, presently tooke on him that adventure. But being 
vnable to performe it by reason of the hard Enchauntments, after long 
sorrow, in the end met with Britomartis, who succoured him, and reskewed 
his loue. 

But by occasion hereof many other adventures are intermedled; but 
rather as Accidents then intendments : As the love of Britomart, the over- 
throw of Marinell, the misery of Florimell, the vertuousnes of Belphoebe, 
the lasciviousnes of Hellenora, and many the like. 

Thus much, Sir, I have briefly overronne to direct your understanding to 
the welhead of the History ; that from thence gathering the whole intention 
of the conceit, ye may as in a handfull gripe al the discourse, which other-, 
wise may happily seeme tedious and confused. So, humbly craving the 
continuance of your honorable favour towards me, and th' eternall estab- 
lishment of your happines, I humbly take leave. 

23. January 1589, 

Yours most humbly affectionate, 

Ed. Spenser. 



VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. 



A Vision upon this conceipt of the Faery 
Queene. 

Me thought I saw the grave where Laura 

lay, 
Within that Temple where the vestall 

flame 
Was wont to burne ; and passing by that 

way 
To see that buried dust of living fame, 
Whose tumbe faire love, and fairer vertue 

kept, 
All suddeinly I saw the Faery Queene : 
At whose approch the soule of Petrarke 

wept, 
And from thenceforth those graces were 

not seene ; 
For they this Queene attended, in whose 

steed 
Oblivion laid him downe on Lauras herse. 
Hereat the hardest stones were seene to 

bleed, 
And grones of buried ghostes the hevens 

did perse : 
Where Homers spright did tremble all 

for griefe, 
And curst th' accesse of that celestiall 

thiefe. 

Another of the same. 

The prayse of meaner wits this worke like 

profit brings, 
As doth the Cuckoes song delight when 

Philumena sings. 
If thou hast formed right true vertues 

face herein, 
Vertue her selfe can best discerne to whom 

they written bin. 
If thou hast beauty praysd, let her sole 

lookes divine 
Judge if ought therein be amis, and mend 

it by her eine. 
If Chastitie want ought, or Temperaunce 

her dew, 
Behold her Princely mind aright, g,nd 

write thy Queene anew, 



Meane while she shall perceive, how far 

her vertues sore 
Above the reach of all that live, or such 

as wrote of yore : 
And thereby will excuse and favour thy 

good Will ; 
Whose vertue can not be exprest, but by 
an Angels quill. 
Of me no lines are lov'd, nor letters are 

of price. 
Of all which speak our English tongue, 
but those of thy device. 

• W^ R. 



To the learned Shepeheard. 

Collyn, I see, by thy new taken taske. 
Some sacred fury hath enricht thy 

braynes, 
That leades thy muse in haughty verse to 

maske, 
And loath the layes that longs to lowly 

s Waynes ; 
That lifts thy notes from Shepheardes 

unto kinges : 
So like the lively Larke that mounting 

singes. 

Thy lovely Rosolinde seemes now forlorne, 
And all thy gentle flockes forgotten 

quight : 
Thy chaunged hart now holdes thy pypes 

in scorne. 
Those prety pypes that did thy mates 

delight ; 
Those trusty mates, that loved thee so 

well ; 
Whom thou gav'st mirth, as they gave 

thee the bell. 

Yet, as thou earst with thy sweete rounde- 

layes 
Didst stirre to glee our laddes in homely 

bowers ; 
So moughtst thou now in these refyned 

layes 



8 



VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. 



Delight the daintie eares of higher 

powers : 
And so mought they, in their deepe skan- 

ning skill, 
Alow and grace our Collyns flowing quyll. 

And faire befall that Faery Queene of 

thine, 
In whose faire eyes love linckt with ver- 

tue sittes : 
Enfusing, by those bewties fyers devyne, 
Such high conceites into thy humble 

wittes, 
As raised hath poore pastors oaten reedes 
From rustick tunes, to chaunt heroique 

deedes. 

So mought thy Redcrosse knight with 

happy hand 
Victorious be in that faire Hands right, 
Which thou dost vayle in Type of Faery 

land, 
Elizas blessed field, that Albion bight : 
That shieldes her triendes, and warres her 

mightie foes, 
Yet still with people, peace, and plentie 

flowes. 

But (jolly shepheard) though with pleas- 
ing style 
Thou least the humour of the Courtly 
trayne, 

Let not conceipt thy setled sence be- 
guile, 
Ne daunted be through envy or disdaine. 

Subject thy dome to her Empyringspright, 

From whence thy Muse, and all the world, 
takes light. 

HOBYNOLL. 



Fayre Thamis streame, that from Ludds 

stately towne 
Runst paying tribute to the Ocean seas. 
Let all thy Nymphes and Syrens of re- 

nowne 
Be silent, whyle this Bryttane Orpheus 

playes. 
Nere thy sweet bankes there lives that 

sacred crowne, 
Whose hand strowes Palme and never- 
dying bayes : 
Let all at once, with thy soft murmuring 

sowne, 
Present her with this worthy Poets prayes ; 
For he hath taught hye drifts in shepe- 

herdes weedes. 
And deepe conceites now singes in Faeries 

deedes. 

R. S. 



Grave Muses, march in triumph and with 

prayses ; 
Our Goddesse here hath given you leave 

to land ; 
And biddes this rare dispenser of your 

graces 
Bow downe his brow unto her sacred hand. 
Deserte findes dew in that most princely 

doome. 
In whose sweete brest are all the Muses 

bredde : 
So did that great Augustus erst in Roome 
With leaves of fame adorne his Poets 

hedde. 
Faire be the guerdon of your Faery 

Queene, 
Even of the fairest that the world hath 

seene ! 

H. B. 



When stout Achilles heard of Helens rape. 
And what revenge the States of Greece 

devisd, 
Thinking by sleight the fatall warres to 

scape. 
In womans weedes him selfe he then dis- 

guisde ; 
But this devise Ulysses soone did spy, 
And brought him forth the chaunce of 

warre to try. 

When Spencer saw the fame was spredd 

so large. 
Through Faery land, of their renowned 

Queene, 
Loth that his Muse should take so great a 

charge, 
As in such haughty matter to be seene. 
To seeme a shepeheard then he made his 

choice ; 
But Sydney heard him sing, and knew 

his voice. 

And as Ulysses brought faire Thetis sonne 
From his retyred life to menage armes. 
So Spencer was by Sidney's speaches 

wonne 
To blaze her fame, not fearing future 

harmes ; 
For well he knew, his Muse would soone 

be tyred 
In her high praise, that all the world 

admired. 

Yet as Achilles, in those warlike frayes. 
Did win the palme from all the Grecian 

Peeres, 
So Spenser now, to his immortall prayse, 
Hath wonne the Laurell quite from all 

his feres. 



VERSES ADDRESSED TO THE AUTHOR. 



What though his taske exceed a humaine 

witt. 
He is excus'd, sith Sidney thought it fitt. 

W. L. 



To looke upon a worke of rare devise 
The which a workman setteth out to view, 
And not to yield it the deserved prise 
That unto such a workmanship is dew, 
Doth either prove the judgement to be 

nauglit, 
Or els doth shew a mind with envy 
fraught. 

To labour to commend a peece of worke, 
Which no man goes about to discommend. 
Would raise a jealous doubt, that there 

did lurke 
Some secret doubt whereto the prayse 

did tend ; 
For when men know the goodnes of 

the wyne, 



'Tis needlesse for the boast to have a 
sygne. 

Thus then, to shew my judgement to be 

such 
As can discerne of colours blacke and 

white. 
As alls to free my minde from envies tuch, 
That never gives to any man his right, 
I here pronounce this workmanship is 

such 
As that no pen can set it forth too much. 

And thus I hang a garland at the dore ; 
Not for to shew the goodness of the ware ; 
But such hath beene the custome hereto- 
fore. 
And customes very hardly broken are ; 
And when your tast shall tell you this 

is trew", 
Then looke you give your hoast his 
utmost dew. 

Ignoto. 



VERSES 



ADDRESSED, BY THE AUTHOR OF THE FAERIE QDEENE, TO VARIOUS NOBLEMEN, &C. 



To the Right honourable Sir Christopher 
Hatton, Lord high Chauncelor of Eng- 
land, &c. 

Those prudent heads, that with theire 
counsels wise 
Whylom the pillours of th' earth did 

sustaiue, 
And taught ambitious Rome to tyran- 
nise 
And in the neck of all the world to rayne ; 
Oft from those grave affaires were wont 
abstaine, 
With the sweet Lady Muses for to play : 
So Ennius the elder Africane, 
So Maro oft did Caesars cares allay. 
So you, great Lord, that with your coun- 
sell sway 
The burdeiue of this kingdom mightily, 
With like delightes sometimes may eke 

delay 
The rugged brow of caref ull Policy ; 
And to these ydle rymes lend litle space, 
Which for their titles sake may tind more 
grace. 

To the most honourable and excellent Lord 
the Earle of Essex. Great Maister of the 
Horse to her Highnesse, and knight of 
the Noble order of the Garter, &c. 

Magnificke Lord, whose vertnes excellent, 
Doe merit a most famous Poets witt 
To be thy living praises instrument, 
Yet doe not sdeigne to let thy name be 
writt 

In this base Poeme, for thee far unfitt: 
Nought is thy worth disparaged thereby ; 
But when my Muse, whose fethers, noth- 
ing flitt, 
Doe yet but flagg, and lowly learne to 

fly. 

With bolder wing shall dare alofte to sty 
To the last praises of this Faery Queene ; 



Then shall it make more famous memory 
Of thine Heroicke parts, such as they 
beene : 
Till then, vouchsafe thy noble counte- 

naunce 
To these first labours needed f urtheraunce. 



To the Right Honourable the Earle of 
Oxenford, Lord high Chamberlayne of 
England, &c. 

Receive, most Noble Lord, in gentle gree. 
The unripe fruit of an unready wit ; 
Which by thy countenaunce doth crave 

to bee 
Defended from foule Envies poisnous 
bit. 
Which so to doe may thee right well befit, 
Sith th' antique glory of thine auncestry 
Under a shady vele is therein writ, 
And eke thine owne long living memory, 
Succeeding them in true nobility: 
And also for the love which thou doest 

beare 
To th' Heliconian ymps, and they to 

thee ; 
They unto thee, and thou to them, most 
deare : 
Deare as thou art unto thy selfe, so love 
That loves and honours thee, as doth 
behove. 



To the right honourable the Earle of 
Northumberland. 

The sacred Muses have made alwaies 
clame 
To be tlie Nourses of nobility. 
And Registres of everlasting fame, 
To all that amies professe and chevalry. 
Then, by like right the noble Progeny, 
Which them succeed in fame and worth, 
are tyde 



lO 



TO SEVERAL NOBLEMEN, ETC. 



II 



T' embrace the service of sweete Poetry, 
By whose endevours they are glorifide ; 
And eke from all, of whom it is envide, 
To patronize the authour of their praise, 
Which gives them life, that els would 

soone have dide. 
And crownes their ashes with immortall 
bales. 
To thee, therefore, right noble Lord, I send 
This present of my paines, it to defend. 



To the right Honourable the Earle of 
Ormond and Ossory. 

Receive, most noble Lord, a simple taste 
Of the wilde fruit which salvage soyl 

hath bred ; 
"Which, being through long wars left 

almost waste, 
With brutish barbarisme is overspredd : 
And, in so faire a land as may be redd, 
Not one Parnassus, nor one Helicoue, 
Left for sweete Muses to be harboured, 
But where thy selfe hast thy brave man- 
sione : 
There, in deede, dwel faire Graces many 
one, 
And gentle Nymphes, delights of learned 

wits; 
And in thy person, without paragone. 
All goodly bountie and true honour sits. 
Such, therefore, as that wasted soyl doth 

yield. 
Receive, dear Lord, in worth, the fruit of 
barren field. 



To the right honourable the Lord Ch. 
Howard, Lord high Admiral of Eng- 
land, knight of the noble order of the 
Garter, and one of her Majesties privie 
Counsel, &c. 

And ye, brave Lord, whose goodly per- 
sonage 
And noble deeds, each other garnishing. 
Make you ensample to the present age 
Of th' old Heroes, whose famous of- 
spring 
The antique Poets wont so much to sing; 
In this same Pageaunt have a worthy 

place, 
Sith those huge castles of Castilian King, 
That vainly threatned kingdomes to 
displace. 
Like flying doves ye did before you chace ; 
And that proud people, woxen insolent 
Through many victories, didst first 
deface : 



Thy praises everlasting monument 
Is in this verse engraven semblably. 
That it may live to all posterity. 

To the most renowmed and valiant Lord, 
the Lord Grey of Wilton, knight of the 
Noble order of the Garter, (fee. 

Most Noble Lord, the pillor of my life. 
And Patrone of my Muses pupillage ; 
Through whose large bountie, poured 

on me rife 
In the first season of my feeble age, 
I now doe live, bound yours by vassalage ; 
Sith nothing ever may redeeme, nor 

reave 
Out of your endlesse debt, so sure a 

gage. 
Vouchsafe in worth this small guift to 
receave. 
Which in your noble hands for pledge I 
leave 
Of all the rest that I am tyde t' account : 
Rude rymes, the which a rustick Muse 

did weave 
In savadge soyle, far from Parnasso 
Mount, 
And roughly wrought in an unlearned 

Loome : 
The which vouchsafe, dear Lord, your 
favorable doome. 

To the right noble and valorous knight, 
Sir Walter Raleigh, Lord Wardein of the 
Stanneryes, and Lieftenaunt of Corne- 
waile. 

To thee, that art the sommers Nightin- 
gale, 
Thy soveraine Goddesses most dears 

delight, 
Why doe I send this rusticke Madrigale, 
That may thy tunefull eare unseason 
quite? 
Thou onely fit this Argument to write, 
In whose high thoughts Pleasure hath 

built her bowre, 
And dainty love learnd sweetly to 

endite. 
My rimes I know unsavory and sowre, 
To tast the streames that, like a golden 
showre. 
Flow from thy fruitfuU head, of thy 

love's praise; 
Fitter, perhaps, to thonder Martiall 
stowre. 
When so thee list thy lofty Muse to raise : 
Yet, till that thou tliy Poeme wilt make 

knowne. 
Let thy faire Cinthias praises be thus 
rudely showne. 



12 



VERSES ADDRESSED BY THE AUTHOR. 



To the right honoiirahle the Lord Bur- 
leigh, Lord high Threasurer of Eng- 
layid. 

To you, right noble Lord, whose carefull 
brest 
To menage of most grave affaires is 
bent; 
And on whose mightie shoulders most 
doth rest 
The burdein of this kingdomes governe- 
ment. 
As the wide compasse of the firmament 
On Atlas mighty shoulders is upstayd. 
Unfitly I these ydle rimes present. 
The labor of lost time, and wit unstayd : 
Yet if their deeper sence be inly wayd, 
And the dim vele, with which from com- 
mune vew 
Their fairer parts are hid, aside be layd, 
Perhaps not vaine they may appeare to 
you. 
Such as they be, vouchsafe them to re- 

ceave, 
And wipe their faults out of your censure 
grave. 

E. S. 

To the right honourable the Earle of 
Cumberland. 

Redoubted Lord, in whose corageous mind 
The flowre of chevalry, now bloosming 

faire, 
Doth promise fruite worthy the noble 

kind 
Which of their praises have left you the 
haire ; 
To you this humble present I prepare, 
For love of vertue and of Martiall 

praise ; 
To which though nobly ye inclined are. 
As goodlie well ye shew'd in late assaies, 
Yet brave ensample of long passed daies, 
In which trew honor yee may fashioned 

see. 
To like desire of honor may ye raise, 
And fill your mind with magnanimitee. 
Receive it. Lord, therefore, as it was ment, 
For honor of your name and high descent. 

E. S. 

To the right honourable the Lord of Hunn- 
don, high Chamberlaine to her Majesty. 

Renowmed Lord, that, for your worthi- 

nesse 
And noble deeds, have your deserved 

place 
High in the favour of that Emperesse, 
The worlds sole glory and her sexes 

grace : 



Here eke of right have you a worthie 
place. 
Both for your nearnes to that Faerie 

Queene 
And for your owne high merit in like 

cace : 
Of which, apparaunt proof e was to be 
seeue, 
Wlien that tumultuous rage and fearfull 
deene 
Of Northerne rebels ye did pacify, 
And their disloiall powre defaced clene, 
The record of enduring memory. 
Live, Lord, for ever in this lasting verse, 
That all posteritie thy honor may reherse. 

E. S. 

To the right honourable the Loi^d of Buck- 
hurst, one of her Majesties privie Coun- 
sell. 

In vain I thinke, right honourable Lord, 
By this rude rime to memorize thy name. 
Whose learned Muse hath writ her owne 

record 
In golden verse, worthy immortal fame : 
Thou much more fit (were leasure to the 
same) 
Thy gracious Soverains praises to com- 
pile. 
And her imperiall Majestic to frame 
In loftie numbers and heroicke stile. 
But, sith thou maist not so, give leave a 
while 
To baser wit his power therein to spend, 
Whose grosse defaults thy daintie pen 

may file, 
And unadvised oversights amend. 
But evermore vouchsafe it to maintaine 
Against vile Zoilus backbitings vaine. 



To the right honourable Sir Fr. Walsing- 
ham, knight, principall Secretary to her 
Majesty, and one of her honourable 
privy Counsell. 

That Mantuane Poetes incompared spirit, 
Whose girland now is set in highest place. 
Had not Mecpenas, for his worthy merit, 
It first ad vaunst to great Augustus grace, 
Might long perhaps have lien in silence 
bace, 
Ne bene so much admir'd of later age. 
This lowly Muse, that learns like steps 

to trace, 
Flies for like aide unto your Patronage, 
That are the great Mecaenas of this age, 
As wel to al that civil artes professe. 
As those that are inspir'd with Martial 
rage, 



TO SEVERAL NOBLEMEN, ETC. 



13 



And craves protection of her feeble- 
nesse : 
Which if ye yield, perhaps ye may her 

rayse. 
In bigger tunes to sound your living prayse. 

E. S. 



To the right noble Lord and most valiaunt 
Captaine, Sir John Norrls, knight, 
Lord president of Mounster. 

Who ever gave more honourable prize 
To the sweet Muse then did the Martiall 
crew, 
That their brave deeds she might immor- 
talize 
In her shril tromp, and sound their 
praises dew? 
Who then ought more to favour her then 
you, 
Moste noble Lord, the honor of this age. 
And Precedent of all that amies ensue? 
Whose warlike prowesse and manly cour- 
age, 
Tempred with reason and advizement sage. 
Hath fild sad Belgicke with victorious 

spoile ; 
In Fraunce and Ireland left a famous 

gage; 
And lately shakt the Lusitauian soile. 
Sith, then, each where thou hast dispredd 

thy fame. 
Love him that hath eternized your name-. 

E. S. 



To the right honourable and most vertuous 
Lady the Countesse of Penbroke. 

Remembraunce of that most Heroicke 
spirit, 

The hevens pride, the glory of our daies. 

Which now triumpheth, through immor- 
tall merit 

Of his brave vertues, crownd with last- 
ing bales 
Of hevenlie blis and everlasting praies ; 

Who first my Muse did lift out of the 
flore. 

To sing his sweet delights in lowlie laies , 

Bids me, most noble Lady, to adore 
His goodly image, living evermore 

In the divine resemblaunce of your face ; 

Which with your vertues ye' embellish 
more, 

And native beauty deck with hevenlie 
grace : 



For his, and for your owne especial sake. 
Vouchsafe from him this token in good 
worth to take. 

E. S. 

To the most vertuous and beautifull Lady, 
the Lady Carew. 

Ne may I, vrithout blot of endlesse blame, 
You, fairest Lady, leave out of this 

place; 
But with remembraunce of your gracious 

name, 
Wherewith that courtly garlond most ye 
grace 
And deck the world, adorne these verses 
base. 
Not that these few lines can in them 

comprise 
Those glorious ornaments of hevenly 

grace. 
Wherewith ye triumph over feeble eyes, 
And in subdued harts do tyranyse; 

For thereunto doth need a golden quill. 
And silver leaves, them rightly to 

devise ; 
But to make humble present of good 
will : 
AVhich, whenas timely meanes it purchase 

may. 
In ampler wise it selfe will forth display. 

E. S. 

To all the gratious and beautifull Ladies 
in the Court. 

The Chian Peincter, when he was requirde 
To pourtraict Venus in her perfect hew, 
To make his worke more absolute, desird 
Of all the fairest Maides to have the vew, 
Much more me needs, to draw the sem- 
blant trew 
Of beauties Queene, the worlds sole 

wonderment, 
To sharpe my sence with sundry beauties 

vew. 
And steale from each some part of orna- 
ment. 
If all the world to seeke I overwent, 
A fairer crew yet no where could I see 
Then that brave court doth to mine eie 

present, 
That the worlds pride seemes gathered 
there to bee. 
Of each a part I stole by cunning thefte : 
Forgive it me, faire Dames, sith lesse ye 
have not lefte. 

E. S. 



THE FIRST BOOK 
or 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED" CROSSE, OR OF HOLINESSE. 



Lo! I, the man whose Muse whylome 

did maske, 
As time her taught, in lowly Shephards 

weeds, 
Am now enforst, a farre unfitter taske, 
For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine 

Oaten reeds, 
And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle 

deeds ; 
Whose praises having slept in silence long, 
Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds 
To blazon broade emongst her learned 

throng : 
Fierce warres and faithful loves shall 

moralize my song. 



Helpe then, O holy virgin! chiefe of 

nyne, 
Thy weaker Novice to performe thy will ; 
Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne 
The antique rolles, which there lye hidden 

still. 
Of Faerie knights, and fay rest Tanaquill, 
Whom that most noble Briton Prince so 

long 
Sought through the world, and suffered so 

much ill, 
That I must rue his undeserved wrong : 
O, helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen 

my dull tong! 



And thou, most dreaded impe of highest 
Jove, 
Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart 
At that good knight so cunningly didst 

rove. 
That glorious fire it kindled in his hart ; 
Lay now thy deadly Heben bowe apart. 
And with thy mother mylde come to mine 

ayde ; 
Come, both ; and with you bring triumph- 
ant Mart, 
In loves and gentle jollities arraid. 
After his murdrous spoyles and bloudie 
rage allay d. 

IV. 

And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly 

bright! 
Mirrour of grace and Majestie divine, 
Great Ladie of the greatest Isle, whose 

light 
Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world 

doth shine. 
Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, 
And raise my thoughtes, too humble and 

too vile, 
To thinke of that true glorious type of 

thine. 
The argument of mine afflicted stile : 
The which to heare vouchsafe, O dearest 

dread, a-while! 



CANTO I. 

The Patrone of true Holinesse 
Fonle Errour doth defeate : 
Hypocrisie, liiin to entrappe, 
Doth to his home entreate. 



i A GENTLE Knight was pricking on the 
plaine, 
i. Ycladd in mightiearmesand silver shielde, 

Wherein old dints of deepe woundes did 
\ remaine, 



Jhe cruell markes of many* a bloody 

fielde ; 
Yet armes till that time did he never 

wield. 
His angry steede did chide his fomiug 

bitt, 



H 



f£. i-AtM^ir. vuKENt. 



15 



\s much d'-^dayumg to the curbe to yield : 
i?ull j'ily knight he seemd, and faire did 

sitt, 
As one for knightly giusts and fierce en- 
counters titt. 



And on his brest a bloodie Crosse he 

bore, 
The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, 
For whose sweete sake that glorious badge 

he wore, 
And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : 
Upon his shield the like was also scor'd. 
For soveraine hope which in his helpe he 

had. 
Right faithfull true he was in deede and 

word. 
But of his cheere did seeme too solemne 

sad; 
Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was 

ydrad. 

III. 
Upon a great adventure he was bond, 
That greatest Gloriana to him gave, 
(That greatest Glorious Queene of Faery 

loud) 
To winne him worshippe, and her grace to 

have, 
Which of all earthly thinges he most did 

crave : 
And ever as he rode his hart did earne 
To prove his puissance in battell brave 
Upon his foe, and his new force to learne, 
Upon his foe, a Dragon horrible and 

stearne. 



A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside, 
Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow, 
Yet she ranch whiter; but the same did 

hide 
Under a vele, that wimpled was full low ; 
And over all a blacke stole shee did throw : 
As one that inly mournd, so was she 

sad. 
And heavie sate upon her palfrey slow ; 
Seemed in heart some hidden care she 

had, 
And by her, in aline, a milkewhite lambe 

she lad. 



So pure and innocent, as that same 

lambe, 
She was in life and every vertuous lore ; 
And by descent from Royall lynage came 
Of ancient Kinges and Queenes, that had 

of yore 
Their scepters stretcht from East to 

Westerne shore, 



And aU the worl(ii -ir subjection held ; 

Till thiit inferuall - . .;d with fouleuprore 
Forwasted all their laud, and them expeld ; 
Whom to avenge she had this Knight from 
far compeld. 



Behind' her farre away a Dwarfe did 
lag. 
That lasie seemd, in being ever last. 
Or wearied with bearing of her bag 
Of needments at his backe. Thus as they 

past, 
The day with cloudes was suddeine over- 
cast. 
And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine 
Did poure into his Lemans lap so fast, 
That everie wight to shrowd it did con- 
strain ; 
And this faire couple eke to shroud them- 
selves were fain. 



Enforst to seeke some covert nigh at 

hand, 
A shadie grove not farr away they spide. 
That promist ayde the tempest to with- 
stand ; 
Whose loftie trees, yclad with sonimers 

pride, 
Did spred so broad, that heavens light 

did hide. 
Not perceable with power of any starr: 
And all within were pathes and alleles 

wide. 
With footing worne, and leading inward 

farr. 
Faire harbour that them seems, so in they 

entred ar. 

VIII. 

And foorth they passe, with pleasure 

forward led. 
Joying to heare the birdes sweete har- 
mony. 
Which, therein shrouded from the tempest 

dred, 
Seemd in their song to scorne the cruell 

sky. 
Much can they praise the trees so straight 

and hy. 
The sayling Pine; the Cedar proud and 

tall; 
The vine-propp Elme ; the Poplar never 

dry; 
The builder Oake, sole king of forrests all; 
The Aspiue good for staves ; the Cypresse 

fuuerall; 

IX. 

The Laurell, meed of mightie Con- 
querours 



i6 



THE F.\ERIE QUEENt. 



[book I. 



Aud Poets sage; the Fine liiat weepcili 
still: 

The Willow, worne of forlorne Para- 
mours ; 

The Eugh, obedient to the benders will; 

The Birch for shaf tes ; the Sallow for the 
mill; 

The Mirrhe sweete-bleeding in the bitter 
wound ; 

The warlike Beech ; the Ash for nothing 
ill; 

The fruitf uU Olive ; and the Platane 
round ; 

The carver Holme ; the Maple seeldom in- 
ward sound. 

X. 

Led with delight, they thus beguile the 

way, 
Untill the blustring storme is overblowne ; 
When, weening to returne whence they did 

stray, 
They cannot finde that path, which first 

was showne, 
But wander too and fro in waies un- 

knowne, 
Furthest from end then, when they neerest 

weene. 
That makes them doubt their wits be not 

their owne : 
So many pathes, so many turnings scene. 
That which of them to take in diverse 

doubt they been. 



At last resolving forward still to fare. 
Till that some end they finde, or in or out, 
That path they take that beaten seemd 

most bare, 
And like to lead the labyrinth about ; 
Which when by tract they hunted had 

throughout. 
At length it brought them to a hollowe 

cave 
Amid the thickest woods. The Champion 

stout 
Eftsoones dismounted from his courser 

brave, 
And to the Dwarfe a while his needlesse 

spere he gave. 



* Be well aware,' quoth then that Ladie 
milde, 

* Least suddaine mischiefe ye too rash 
provoke : 

The danger hid, the place unknowne and 
wilde, 

Breedes dread full doubts. Oft fire is with- 
out smoke. 



Autl perill without sliow : therefore your 

stroke. 
Sir KnighL, with-''old tii' further tryall 

made.' 
'Ah Ladie,' (sayd he) ' shame were to 

revoke 
The forward footing for an hidden shade: 
Vertue gives her selfe light through dark- 

nesse for to wade.' 



' Yea but ' (quoth she) ' the perill of this 

place 
I better wot then you : though nowe too late 
To wish you backe returne with foule dis- 
grace. 
Yet wisedome warnes, whilest foot is in the 

gate. 
To stay the steppe, ere forced to retrate. 
This is the wandriug wood, this Errours 

den, 
A monster vile, whom God and man does 

hate : 
Therefore I read beware.' 'Fly, fly!' 

(quoth then 
The fearefull Dwarfe) ' this is no place for 

living men.' 



But, full of fire and greedy hardiment, 
The youthfull Knight could not for ought 

be staide ; 
But forth unto the darksom hole he went, 
And looked in : his glistring armor made 
A litle glooming light, much like a shade ; 
By which he saw the ugly monster plaine, 
Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide. 
But th'other halfe did womans shape 

retaine, 
Mostlothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile 

disdaine. 



And, as she lay upon the durtie ground. 
Her huge long taile her den all overspred , 
Yet was in knots and many boughtes 

upwound. 
Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there 

bred 
A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed. 
Sucking upon her poisnous dugs ; each one 
Of sundrie shapes, yet all ill-favored : 
Soone as that uncouth light upon them 

shone. 
Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all 

were gone. 

XVI. 

Their dam upstart out of her den effraide, 
And rushed forth, hurling her hideous taile 
About her cursed head ; whose folds dis- 
plaid 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



17 



Were stretcht now forth at length without 

entraile. 
She lookt about, and seeing one in mayle, 
Armed to point, sought backe to turne 

agaiue ; 
For light she hated as the deadly bale, 
Ay wont in desert darknes to remaine. 
Where plain none might her see, nor she 

see any plaine. 



Which when the valiant Elfe perceiv'd, 

he lept 
As Lyon fierce upon the flying pray. 
And with his trenchand blade her boldly 

kept 
From turning iacke, and forced her to stay : 
Therewith enrag'd she loudly gan to bray, 
And turning fierce her speckled taile ad- 

vaunst, 
Threatning her angrie sting, him to dismay ; 
Who, nought aghast, his mightie hand 

enhaunst; 
The stroke down from her head unto her 

shoulder glaunst. 

XVIII. 

Much daunted with that dint her sence 

was dazd ; 
Yet kindling rage her selfe she gathered 

round, 
And all attonce her beastly bodie raizd 
With doubled forces high above the ground : 
Tho, wrapping up her wrethed sterne 

arownd, 
Lept fierce upon his shield, and her huge 

train e 
All suddenly about his body wound, 
That hand or foot to stirr he strove in 

vaine. 
God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours 

endlesse traiue! 



His Lady, sad to see his sore constraint, 
Cride out, ' Now, now. Sir knight, shew 

what ye bee ; 
Add faith unto your force, and be not faint ; 
Strangle her, els she sure will strangle 

thee.' 
That whcii he heard, in great perplexitie, 
His gall did grate for griefe and high dis- 

daine ; 
And, knitting all his force, got one hand 

free, 
Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so 

great paine, 
That soone to loose her wicked bands did 

her constraine. 



Therewith she spewd out of her filthie 

maw 
A floud of poyson horrible and blacke. 
Full of great lumps of flesh and gobbets 

raw. 
Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him 

slacke 
His grasping hold, and from her turne him 

backe. 
Her vomit full of bookes and papers was. 
With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes 

did lacke, 
Andcreeping sought way in theweedygras: 
Her filthie parbreake all the place defiled 

has. 

XXI. 

As when old father Nilus gins to swell 
With timely pride above the Aegyptian 

vale 
His fattie waves doe fertile slime outwell. 
And overflow each plaine and lowly dale: 
But, when his later spring gins to avale. 
Huge heapes of mudd he leaves, wherein 

there breed 
Ten thousand kindes of creatures, partly 

male 
And partly femall, of his fruitful seed ; 
Such ugly monstrous shapes elswher may 

no man reed. 

XXII. 

The same so sore annoyed has the 

knight. 
That, weluigh choked with the deadly 

stinke, 
His forces faile, ne can no lenger fight: 
Whose corage when the feend perceivd to 

shrinke. 
She poured forth out of her hellish sinke 
Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents 

small, 
Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as 

inke. 

Which swarming all about his legs did 
y crall, 
^And him encombred sore, but could not 

hurt at all. 



XXIII. 

As gentle shepheard in sweete eventide, 
When ruddy Phebus gins to welke in west. 
High on an' hill, his flocke to vcM'en wide, 
Markes which doe byte their hasty supper 

best ; 
A cloud of cumbrous gnattes doe him 

molest, 
All striving to infixe their feeble stinges. 
That from their noyance he no where can 

rest ; 



^ 



i8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



But with his clownish hands their tender 

wings 
He brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their 

murmurings. 

^ XXIV. 

Thus ill bestedd, and fearefull more of 
shame 
Then of the certeine perill he stood in, 
Halfe furious unto his foe he came, 
Resolvd in minde all suddenly to win, 
Or soone to lose, before he once would lin ; 
And stroke at her with more then manly 

force, 
That from her body, full of filthie sin. 
He raft her hatefull heade without re- 
morse : 
A streame of cole-black blood forth gushed 
from her corse. 

XXV. 

Her scattered brood, soone as their 
Parent deare 
They saw so rudely falling to the ground, 
Groning full deadly, all with troublous 

feare 
Gathred themselves about her body round. 
Weening their wonted entrance to have 

found 
At her wide mouth ; but being there with- 
stood, 
They flocked all about her bleeding wound , 
And sucked up their dying mothers bloud. 
Making her death their life, and eke her 
hurt their 



That detestable sight him much amazde, 
To see th' unkindly Impes, of heaven 

accurst, 
Devoure their dam : on whom while so he 

gazd, 
Having all satisfide their bloudy thurst, 
Their bellies swolne he saw with fulnesse 

burst. 
And bowels gushing forth: well worthy 

end 
Of such as drunke her life the which them 

nurst ! 
Now needeth him no lenger labour spend. 
His foes have slaine themselves, with 

whom he should contend. 



His Lady, seeing all that chaunst from 

far re, 
Approcht in hast to greet his victorie ; 
And saide, ' Faire knight, borne under 

happie starre, 



"Who see your vanquisht foes before you 

lye, 
Well worthie be you of that Armory, 
Wherein ye have great glory wonne this 

day. 
And proov'd your strength on a strong 

enimie. 
Your first adventure: many such I pray. 
And henceforth ever wish that like suc- 
ceed it may ! ' 



Then mounted he upon his Steede againe, 
And with the Lady backward sought to 

wend. 
That path he kept which beaten was most 

plaine, 
Ne ever would to any byway bend, 
But still did follow one unto the end, 
The which at last out of the wood them 

brought. 
So forward on his way (with God to frend) 
He passed forth, and new adventure 

sought : 
Long way he travelled before he heard of 

ought. 

XXIX. 

At length they chaunst to meet upon the 

way 
An aged Sire, in long blacke weedes yclad. 
His f eete all bare, his beard all hoarie gray, 
And by his belt his booke he hanging had : 
Sober he seemde, and very sagely sad, 
And to the ground his eyes were lowly 

bent. 
Simple in shew, and voide of malice bad ; 
And all the way he prayed as he went, 
And often knockt his brest, as one that 

did repent. 



He faire the knight saluted, louting low. 
Who faire him quited, as that courteous 

was; 
And after asked him, if he did know 
Of straunge adventures, which abroad did 

pas. 
'Ah! my dear sonne,' (quoth he) 'how 

should, alas! 
Silly old man, that lives in hidden cell, 
Bidding his beades all day for his trespas, 
Tydings of warre and worldly trouble tell ? 
With holy father sits not with such thinges 

to mell. 

XXXI. 

' But if of daunger, which hereby doth 
dwell, 
And homebredd evil ye desire to heare, 
Of a straunge man I can you tidings tell, 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



19 



That wasteth all this coimtrie, farre aud 

neare.' 
' Of such,' (salde he,)' I chiefly doe inquere, 
Aud shall thee well rewarde to shew the 

place, 
In which that wicked wight his dayes doth 

weare ; 
For to all kuighthood it is foule disgrace, 
That such a cursed creature lives so long 

a space.' 

XXXII. 

* Far hence ' (quoth he) * in wastfull 

wildernesse 
His dwelling is, by which no living wight 
May ever passe, but thorough great dis- 

tresse.' 
• Now,' (saide the Ladie,) ' draweth toward 

night, 
And well I wote, that of your later fight 
Ye all forwearied be ; for what so strong. 
But, wanting rest, will also want of might ? 
The Sunne, that measures heaven all day 

long. 
At night doth baite his steedes the Ocean 

waves emong. 



xxxin. 

•Then with the Sunne take, Sir, your 

timely rest. 
And with new day new worke at once 

begin : 
Untroubled night, they say, gives couusell 

best.' • 

'Right well. Sir knight, ye have advised 

bin,' 
Quoth then that aged man : ' the way to 

win 
Is wisely to advise ; now day is spent : 
Therefore with me ye may take up your 

In 
For this same night.' The knight was well 

content ; 
So with that godly father to his home they 

went. 

XXXI v. 
A litle lowly Hermitage it was, 
Downe in a dale, hard by a forests side. 
Far from resort of people that did pas 
In traveill to and f roe : a litle wyde 
There was an holy chappell edifyde, 
Wherein the Hermite dewly wont to say 
His holy thinges each morne and even- 

tyde: 
Thereby a christall streame did gently 

play. 
Which from a sacred fountaine welled 

forth alway, 



Arrived there, the litle house they fill, 

Ne looke for entertainemeut where none 
was ; 

Rest is their feast, and all thinges at their 
will: 

The noblest mind the best contentment has. 

With faire discourse the evening so they 
pas; 

For that olde man of pleasing wordes had 
store, 

And well could file his tongue as smooth 
as glas : 

He told of Saintes and Popes, and ever- 
more 

He strowd an Ave-Mary after and before. 

y^"^ XXXVI. 

/ The drouping night thus creepeth on 

them fast ; 
And the sad humor loading their eyeliddes. 
As messenger of Morpheus, on them cast 
Sweet slombring deaw, the which to sleep 
,^^,^ them biddes. 
Unto their lodgings then his guestes he 

riddes : 
Where Avhen all drownd in deadly sleepe 

he findes. 
He to his studie goes ; and there amiddes 
His magick bookes, and artes of sundrie 

kindes, 
He seekes out mighty charmes to trouble 

sleepy minds. 



Then choosing out^ f aHL_ word s^jhd^ 

horrible, 
(Let none them read) thereof did verses 

frame ; 
With which, and other spelles like terrible. 
He bad awake blacke Plutoes griesly 

Dame ; 
And cursed heven ; and spake reprochful 

shame 
Of highest God, the Lord of life and light : 
A bold bad man, thatdar'dto call by name 
Great Gorgon, prince of darknes and dead 

night ; 
At which Cocytus quakes, and Styx is put 

to flight. 

xxxviu. 
And forth he cald out of deepe darknes 
dredd 
Legions of Sprights, the which, like litle 

flyes 
Fluttring about his ever-damned hedd, 
Awaite whereto their service he applyes. 
To aide his friendes, or fray his enimies. 



20 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Of those he chose out two, the falsest 

twoo, 
And fittest for to forge true-seeming lyes : 
The one of them he gave a message too, 
The other by him selfe staide, other worke 

to doo. 

^ XXXIX. 

l' He, making speedy way through spersed 

f ayre, 

And through the world of waters wide and 

deepe, 
To Morpheus house doth hastily repaire. 
Amid the bowels of the earth full steepe, 
And low, where dawning day doth never 

peepe, 
His dwelling is ; there Tethys his wet bed 
Doth ever wash, and Cynthia still doth 

steepe 
In silver deaw his ever-drouping hed, 
Whiles sad Night over him her mantle 

black doth spred. 



Whose double gates he findeth locked 

fast, 
The one faire fram'd of buruisht Yvory, 
The other all witli silver overcast ; 
And wakeful dogges before them farre 

doe lye, 
Watching to banish Care their eniray, 
Who oft is wont to trouble gentle Sleepe. 
By them the Sprite doth passe in quietly, 
And unto Morpheus comes, whom drowned 

deepe 
In drowsie fit he findes: of nothing he 

takes keepe. 

XLI. 

And more to lulle him in his slumber 

soft, 
A trickling streame from high rock tum- 
bling downe. 
And ever-drizling raine upon the loft, 
Mixt with a murmuring wiude, much like 

the sowne 
Of swarming Bees, did cast him in a 

swowne. 
No other noyse, nor peoples troublous 

cryes. 
As still are wont t'annoy the walled towne. 
Might there be heard ; but carelesse Quiet 

lyes 
Wrapt in eternall silence farre from eni- 

myes. 

XLII. 

The Messenger approching to him 
spake ; 
But his waste wordes retournd to him in 
vaine : 



So sound he slept, that nought mought him 

awake. 
Then rudely he him thrust, and pusht with 

paine, 
Whereat he gan to stretch ; but he againe 
Shooke him so hard, that forced him to 

speake. 
As one then in a dreame, whose dryer 

braine 
Is tost with troubled sights and fancies 

weake, 
He mumbled soft, but would not all his 

silence breake. 

XLIII. 

The Sprite then gan more boldly him to 

wake. 
And threatued unto him the dreaded name 
Of Hecate : whereat he gan to quake, 
And, lifting up his lompish head, with 

blame 
Halfe angrie asked him, for what he came. 
* Hether ' (quoth he,) ' me Archimago sent, 
He that the stubborne Sprites can wisely 

tame. 
He bids thee to him send for his intent 
A fit false dreame, that can delude the 

sleepers sent. 

XLIV. 

The God obayde; and, calling forti 

straight way 
A diverse Dreame out of his prison darke, 
Delivered it to him, and downe did lay 
His heavie head, devoide of careful carke ; 
Whose sences all were straight benumbd 

and Starke. 
He, backe returning by the Yvorie dore, 
Remounted up as light as chearef ull Larke ; 
And on his litle winges the dreame he bore 
In hast unto his Lord, where he him left 

afore. 



Wlio all this while, with charmes and 

hidden artes, 
Had made a Lady of that other Spright, 
And fram'd of liquid ayre her tender 

partes. 
So lively and so like in all mens sight, 
That weaker sence it could have ravisht 

quight : 
The maker selfe, for all his wondrous witt, 
Was nigh beguiled with so goodly sight. 
Her all in white he clad, and over it 
Cast a black stole, most like to seeme for 

Una fit. 

XLVI. 

Now, when that ydle dreame was to him 
brought, 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



21 



Unto that Elfiu knight he had him fly, 
Where h slept soundly void of evil 

thought, 
And with false shewes ahuse his fantasy, 
In sort as he him schooled privily : 
And that new creature, borne without her 

dew, 
Full of the makers guyle, with usage sly 
He taught to imitate that Lady trew, 
Whose semblance she did carrie under 

feigned hew. 



Thus, well instructed, to their worke 
they haste; 
And, comming where the knight in slom- 

ber lay. 
The one upon his bardie head him plaste, 
And made him dreanie of loves and lust- 
full play. 
That nigh his manly hart did melt away. 
Bathed in wanton blis and wicked joy. 
Then seemed him bis Lady by him lay, 
And to him playnd, how that false winged 

boy 
Her chaste hart had subdewd to learne 
Dame Pleasures toy. 



XLVIII. 

And she her selfe, of beautie soveraigne 

Queene, 
Fayre Venus, seemde unto his bed to bring 
Her, whom he, waking, evermore did 

weene 
To bee the chastest flowi-e that aye did 

spring 
On earthly braunch, the daughter of a 

king. 
Now a loose Leman to viie service bound : 
And eke the Graces seemed all to sing, 
Hymen Id Hymen ! dauncing all around ; 
Whylst freshest Flora her with Yvie gir- 

lond crownd. 



In this great passion of unwonted lust. 
Or wonted feare of doing ought amis, 
He starteth up, as seeming to mistrust 
Some secret ill, or hidden foe of bis. 
Lo ! there before his face his Ladie is. 
Under blacke stole hyding her bayted 

hooke ; 
And as halfe blushing off red him to kis, 
With gentle blandishment and lovely 

looke, 
Most like that virgin true which for her 

knight him took. 



L, 

All cleane dismayd to see so uncouth 

sight. 
And half enraged at her sbamelesse guise. 
He thought have slaine her in his fierce 

despight ; 
But hastie heat tempring with sufferance 

wise. 
He stayde his hand ; and gan himselfe 

advise 
To prove his sense, and tempt her faigned 

truth. 
Wringing her hands, in wemens pitteous 

wise, 
Tho can she weepe, to stirre up gentle 

ruth 
Both for her noble blood, and for her 

tender youth. 



And sayd, ' Ah Sir, my liege Lord, and 
my love. 
Shall I accuse the hidden cruell fate, 
And mightie causes wrought in heaven 

above, 
Or the blind God that doth me thus aniate. 
For hoped love to winne me certaine hate ? 
Yet thus perforce he bids me do, or die. 
Die is my dew; yet rew my wretched 

state. 
You, whom my hard avenging destinie 
Hath made judge of my life or death in- 
differently. 



' Your owne deare sake forst me at first 

to leave 
My fathers kingdom ' — There she stopt 

with teares ; 
Her swollen hart her speech seemd to 

bereave. 
And then againe begonne ; ' My weaker 

yeares, 
Captiv'd to fortune and frayle worldly 

feares. 
Fly to your fayth for succour and sure 

ayde: 
Let me not die in languor and long teares.' 
' Why, Dame,' (quoth he,) ' what hath ye 

, thus dismayd ? 
What frayes ye, that were wont to com- 
fort me af rayd ? ' 



' Love of your selfe,' she saide, ' and 
deare constraint, 
Lets me not sleepe, but waste the wearie 
night 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 1. 



lu secret anguish and unpittied plaint, 
Whiles you in carelesse sleepe are drowned 

quight.' 
Her doubtf ull words made that redoubted 

knight 
Suspect her truth : yet since no' untruth 

he knew, 
Her fawning love with foule disdainefull 

spight 
He would not shend ; but said, ' Deare 

dame, I rew, 
That for my sake unknowne such griefe 

unto you grew. 



LIV. 

selfe. 



it fell not all to 



'Assure your 

ground ; 

For all so deare as life is to ray hart, 
1 deeme your love, and hold me to you 

bound : 
Ne let vaine feares procure your needlesse 

smart. 
Where cause is none; but to your rest 

depart.' 



Not all content, yet seemd she to ap- 

, pease 
Her mournefull plaiutes, beguiled of her 

art. 
And fed with words that could not chose 

but please : 
So, slyding softly forth, she turned as to 

her ease. 

LV. 

Long after lay he musing at her mood, 
Much griev'd to thinke that gentle Dame 

so light. 
For whose defence he was to shed his 

blood. 
At last, dull wearines of former fight 
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome 

spright, 
That troublous dreame gan freshly tosse 

his braine 
With bowres, and beds, and ladies deare 

delight : 
But, when he saw his labour all was vaine, 
With that misformed spright he backe 

returnd 



CANTO n. 

The guilefull great Enchaunter parts 
The Redcrosse Knight from Truth: 

Into whose stead faire falshood steps, 
And workes him woefull ruth. 



By this the Northerne wagoner had set 
His sevenfold teme behind the stedfast 

starre 
That was in Ocean waves yet never wet, 
But firme is fixt, and sendeth light from 

farre 
To al that in the wide deepe wandring 

arre; 
And chearef ull Chaunticlere with his note 

shrill 
Had warned once, that Phoebus fiery carre 
In hast was climbing up the Easterne hill, 
Full envious that night so long his roome 

did fill: 

II. 

When those accursed messengers of hell. 
That feigning dreame, and that faire- 

forged Spright, 
Came to their wicked maister, and gan tel 
Their bootelesse paines, and ill succeed- 
ing night : 
Who, all in rage to see his skilful! might 
Deluded so, gan threaten hellish paine, 
And sad Proserpines wrath, them to 

affright : 
But, when he saw his threatning was but 



He cast about, and searcht his baleful 
bokes againe. 



Eftsooneshe tooke that miscreated faire, 
And that false other Spright, on whom he 

spred 
A seeming body of the subtile aire. 
Like a young Squire, in loves and lusty- 

hed 
His wanton daies that ever loosely led. 
Without regard of armes and dreaded 

fight: 
Those twoo he tooke, and in a secrete bed. 
Covered with darkenes and misdeeming 

night, 
Them both together laid to joy in vaine 

delight. 

IV. 

Forthwith he runnes with feigned faith- 
full hast 

Unto his guest, who, after troublous sights 

And dreames, gan now to take more sound 
repast ; 

Whom suddenly he wakes with fearful 
frights. 

As one aghast with feends or damned 
sprights, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



23 



And to him cals; 'Rise, rise! unhappy 

Swaine, 
That here wex old in sleepe, whiles wicked 

wights 
Have knit themselves in Venus shameful 

chaine: 
Come, see where your false Lady doth her 

honor staine.' 



All in amaze he suddenly up start 
With sword in hand, and with the old 

man went ; 
Who soone him brought into a secret part, 
Where that false couple were full closely 

ment 
In wanton lust and lend embracement : 
Which when he saw, he burnt with geal- 

ous fire ; 
The eie of reason was with rage yblent. 
And would have slaine them in his furious 

ire. 
But hardly was restreined of that aged 

sire. 

VI. 

Retourning to his bed in torment great, 
And bitter anguish of his guilty sight, 
He could not rest ; but did his stout heart 

eat. 
And wast his inward gall with deepe de- 

spight, 
Yrkesome of life, and too long lingring 

night. 
• At last faire Hesperus in highest skie 
Had spent his lampe, and brought forth 

dawning light : 
Then up he rose, and clad him hastily : 
The dw^arfe him brought his steed ; so 

both away do fly. 



Now when the rosy fingred Morning 

faire. 
Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed. 
Had spred her purple robe through deawy 

aire, 
And the high hils Titan discovered, 
The royall virgin shooke off drousy-hed ; 
And, rising forth out of her baser bowre, 
Lookt for her knight, who far away was 

fled, 
And for her dwarfe, that wont to wait 

each howre : 
Then gan she wail and weepe to see that 

woeful stowre. 



And after him she rode, with so much 
speede 



As her slowe beast could make ; but all in 

vaine, 
For him so far had borne his light-foot 

steede. 
Pricked with wrath and fiery fierce dis- 
dain e. 
That him to follow was but fruitlesse 

paiue : 
Yet she her weary lirabes would never 

rest ; 
But every hil and dale, each wood and 

plaine, 
Did search, sore grieved in her gentle 

brest, 
He so ungently left her, whome she loved 

best. 

IX. 

But subtill Archimago, when his guests 
He saw divided into double parts, 
And Una wandring in woods and forrests, 
Th' end of his drift, he praisd his divelish 

arts, 
That had such might over true meaning 

harts. 
Yet rests not so, but other meanes doth 

make. 
How he may worke unto her further 

smarts ; 
For her he hated as the hissing snake, 
And in her many troubles did most pleas- 
ure take. 



He then devisde himselfe how to dis- 
guise ; 

For by his mighty science he could take 

As many formes and shapes in seeming 
wise, 

As ever Proteus to himselfe could make: 

Sometime a fowle, sometime a fish in 
lake. 

Now like a foxe, now like a dragon fell ; 

That of himselfe he ofte for feare would 
quake, 

And oft would flie away. O! who can 
tell 

The hidden powre of herbes, and might 
of Magick spel ? 

XI. 

But now seemde best the person to put 

on 
Of that good knight, his late beguiled 

guest : 
In mighty amies he was yclad anon, 
And silver shield ; upon his coward brest 
A bloody crosse, and on his craven crest 
A bounch of heares discolourd diversly. 
Full jolly knight he seemde, and wel 

addrest ; 



24 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



And when he sate upon his courser free, 
Saint George himselfe ye would have 
deemed him to be. 



But he, the knight whose semblaunt he 

did beare, 
The true Saint George, was wandred far 

away, 
Still flying from his thoughts and gealous 

feare : 
Will was his guide, and griefe led him 

astray. 
At last him chaunst to meete upon the 

way 
A faithlesse Sarazin, all armde to point, 
In whose great shield was writ with letters 

^ay 
S(uis foy ; full large of limbe and every 

joint 
He was, and cared not for God or man a 

point. 

XIII. 

Hee had a faire companion of his way, 
A goodly Lady clad in scarlot red, 
Purfled with gold and pearle of rich as- 
say ; 
And like a Persian mitre on her hed 
Shee wore, with crowns and owches gar- 
nished. 
The which her lavish lovers to her gave. 
Her wanton palfrey all was overspred 
AVith tinsell trappings, woven like a wave. 
Whose bridle rung with golden bels and 
bosses brave. 



With faire disport, and courting dalli- 

aunce, 
She intertainde her lover all the way ; 
But, when she saw the knight his speare 

advaunce. 
She soone left off her mirth and wanton 

play, 
And bad her knight addresse him to the 

fray. 
His foe was nigh at hand. He, prickte 

with pride 
And hope to winne his Ladies hearts that 

day, 
Forth spurred fast : adowne his coursers 

side 
The red bloud trickling staind the way, as 

he did ride. 



The knight of the Redcrosse, when him 
he spide 
Spurring so bote with rage dispiteous. 



Gan fairely couch his speare, and towards 
ride. 

Soone meete they both, both fell and fu- 
rious, 

That, daunted with theyr forces hideous. 

Their steeds doe stagger, and amazed stand ; 

And eke themselves, too rudely rigorous, 

Astouied with the stroke of their owne 
hand. 

Doe backe rebutte, and ech to other 
yealdeth laud. 

/' XVI. 

/ As when two rams, stird with ambitious 
^ pride. 

Fight for the rule of the rich fleeced flocke. 
Their horned fronts so fierce on either side 
Doe meete, that, with the terror of the 

shocke, 
Astonied, both stand sencelesse as a 

blocke, 
Forgetf ull of the hanging victory : 
So stood these twaine, unmoved as a 

rocke, 
Both staring fierce, and holding idely 
The broken reliques of their former cru- 
elty. 

XVII. 

The Sarazin, sore daunted with the 

buffe, 
Snatcheth his sword, and fiercely to him 

flies; 
Who well it wards, and quyteth cuff with 

cuff: 
Each others equall puissaunce erwies. 
And through their iron sides with critell 

spies 
Does seeke to perce; repining courage 

yields 
No foote to foe: the flashing fier flies, 
As from a forge, out of their burning 

shields ; 
And streams of purple bloud new die the 

verdant fields. 

XVIII. 

* Curse on that Cross,' (quoth then the 

Sarazin,) 
' That keepes thy body from the bitter fitt ! 
Dead long ygoe, I wote, thou haddest bin, 
Had not that charme from thee forwarned 

itt: 
But yet I warne thee now assured sitt, 
And hide thy head.' Therewith upon his 

crest 
With rigor so outrageous he smitt. 
That a large share it hewd out of the rest. 
And glauncing downe his shield from 

blame him fairly blest. 



CANTO II. 1 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



25 



Who, thereat wondrous wroth, the sleep- 
ing spark 
Of native vertue gan ef tsoones revive ; 
And at his haughty hehnet making mark, 
Sohugely stroke, that it the Steele did rive. 
And cleft his head. He, tumhling dowue 

alive. 
With bloudy mouth his mother earth did 

kis. 
Greeting his grave : his grudging ghost did 

strive 
With the f raile flesh ; at last it flitted is. 
Whither the soules doe fly of men that live 
amis. 



The Lady, when she saw her champion 

fall 
Like the old mines of a broken towre. 
Staid not to waile his woefull funerall. 
But from him fled away with all herpowre ; 
Who after her as hastily gan scowre. 
Bidding the dwarf e with him to bring away 
The Sarazins shield, signe of the conquer- 

oure. 
Her soone he overtooke, and bad to stay ; 
For present cause was none of dread her 

to dismay. 

XXI. 

Shee turning backe, with ruefull counte- 
naunce, 

Cride, 'Mercy, mercy. Sir, vouchsafe to 
show 

On silly Dame, subject to hard mischaunce. 

And to your mighty will' Her humblesse 
low. 

In so ritch weedes, and seeming glorious 
show, 

Did much emmove his stout heroi'cke heart ; 

And said, ' Deare dame, your suddeiu over- 
throw 

Much rueth me; but now put feare apart, 

And tel both who ye be, and who that tooke 
your part.' 

XXII. 

Melting in teares, then gan shee thus la- 
ment. 
*The wretched woman, whom unhappy 

howre 
Hath now made thrall to your commande- 

ment, 
Before that angry heavens list to lowre. 
And fortune false betraide me to thy powre. 
Was (O! what now availeth that I was?) 
Borne the sole daughter of an Emperour, 
He that the wide West under his rule has. 
And high hath set his throne where Ti- 
beris doth pas. 



' He, in the first flowre of my freshest 

age. 
Betrothed me unto the onely haire 
Of a most mighty king, most rich and 

sage : 
Was never Prince so faithfuU and so faire, 
Was never Prince so meeke and debonaire ; 
But ere my hoped day of spousall shone. 
My dearest Lord fell from high honors 

staire 
Into the hands of hys accursed fone, 
And cruelly was slaine ; that shall I ever 

mone. 

XXIV. 

' His blessed body, spoild of lively breath, 
Was afterward, I know not how, convaid. 
And fro me hid : of whose most innocent 

death 
When tidings came to mee, unhappy maid, 
O, how great sorrow my sad soule assaid ! 
Then forth I went his woefull corse to find, 
And many yeares throughout the world I 

straid, 
A virgin widow, whose deepe wounded 

mind 
With love long time did languish, as the 

striken hind. 



' At last it chaunced this proud Sarazin 
To meete me wandring ; who perforce me 

led 
With him away, but yet could never win 
The Fort, that Ladies hold in soveraigne 

dread. 
There lies he now with foule dishonor dead, 
Who, whiles he livde, was called proud 

Sans foy, 
The eldest of three brethren ; all three bred 
Of one bad sire, whose youngest is Sans 

joy; 

And twixt them both w^as born the bloudy 
bold Sans loy. 



' In this sad plight, f riendlesse, unfortu- 
nate. 
Now miserable I, Fidessa, dwell. 
Craving of you, in pitty of my state, 
To doe none ill, if please ye not doe well.' 
He in great passion al this while did 

dwell. 
More busying his quicke eies her face to 

view. 
Then his dull eares to heare what shee 

did tell ; 
And said, ' faire lady, hart of flint would 
rew 



26 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



The undeserved woes and sorrowes, which 
ye shew. 

XXVII. 

' Henceforth in safe assuraunce may ye 

rest, 
Having both foand a new friend you to 

aid, 
And lost an old foe that did you molest ; 
Better new friend then an old foe is said.' 
With chaunge of chear the seeming simple 

maid 
Let fal her eien^ as shamefast, to the 

earth. 
And yeelding soft, in that she nought 

gainsaid, 
So forth they rode, he feining seemely 

merth, 
And shee coy lookes : so dainty, they say, 

maketh derth. 

XXVIII. 

Long time they thus together travelled ; 
Til, weary of their way, they came at last 
Where grew two goodly trees, that faire 

did spred 
Their armes abroad, with gray mosse 

overcast ; 
And their greene leaves, trembling with 

every blast. 
Made a calme shadowe far in compasse 

round : 
The fearefull shepheard, often there 

aghast. 
Under them never sat, ne wont there 

sound 
His mery oaten pipe, but shund th' un- 
lucky ground. 



But this good knight, soone as he them 

can spie. 
For the coole shade him thither hastly 

got: 
For golden Phoebus, now ymounted hie. 
From fiery wheeles of his faire chariot 
Hurled his beame so scorching cruell hot. 
That living creature mote it not abide ; 
And his new Lady it endured not. 
There they alight, in hope themselves to 

hide 
From the fierce heat, and rest their weary 

limbs a tide. 



Faire seemely pleasaunce each to other 
makes, 
With goodly purposes, there as they sit; 
And in his falsed fancy he her takes 
To be the fairest wight that lived yit ; 



Which to expresse he bends his gentle 

wit: 
And, thinking of those braunches greene 

to frame 
A girlond for her dainty forehead fit, 
He pluckt a bough ; out of whose rifte 

there came 
Smal drops of gory blond, that trickled 

down the same. 

XXXI. 

Therewith a piteous yelling voice was 

heard. 
Crying ' O ! spare with guilty hands to 

teare 
My tender sides in this rough rynd 

embard ; 
But fly, ah ! fly far hence away, for feare 
Least to you hap that happened to me 

heare, 
And to this wretched Lady, my deare love ; 
O, too deare love, love bought with death 

too deare ! ' 
Astond he stood, and up his heare did 

hove ; 
And with that suddein horror could no 

member move. 

XXXII. 

At last whenas the dreadf nil passion 
Was overpast, and manhood well awake, 
Yet musing at the straunge occasion. 
And doubting much his sence, he thus 

bespake : 
' What voice of damned Ghost from Limbo 

lake, 
Or guilefuU spright wandring in empty 

aire. 
Both which f raile men doe oftentimes mis- 
take, 
Sends to my doubtful eares these speaches 

rare, 
And ruefull plaints, me bidding guiltlesse 
blood to spare ? * 



Then, groning deep; 'Nor damned 

Ghost,' (quoth he,) 
' Nor guileful sprite to thee these words 

doth speake; 
But once a man, Fradubio, now a tree ; 
Wretched man, wretched tree! whose 

nature weake 
A cruell witch, her cursed will to wreake. 
Hath thus transformd, and plast in open 

plaines. 
Where Boreas doth blow full bitter bleake, 
And scorching Sunne does dry my secret 

vaines ; 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



27 



For though a tree I seme, yet cold and 
heat me paiiies.' 



'Say on, Fradubio, then, or man or tree,' 
Quoth then the Knight ; ' by whose mis- 
chievous arts 
Art thou misshaped thus, as now I see ? 
He oft finds med'cine who his griefe 

imparts, 
But double griefs afflict concealing harts, 
As raging flames who striveth to sup- 
pressed 
'The author then,' (said he) 'of all my 

smarts, 
Is one Duessa, a false sorceresse, 
That many errant knights hath broght to 
wretchednesse. 



* In prime of youthly yeares, when 
corage hott 
The fire of love, and joy of chevalree, 
First kindled in my brest, it Avas my lott 
To love this gentle Lady, whome ye see 
Now not a Lady, but a seeming tree ; 
With whome, as once I rode accompanyde, 
Me chaunced of a knight encountred bee. 
That had a like faire Lady by his syde ; 
Lyke a faire Lady, but did fowle Duessa 
hyde. 



' Whose forged beauty he did take in 

hand 
All other Dames to have exceeded farre : 
I in defence of mine did likewise stand, 
Mine, that did then shine as the Morning 

starre. 
So both to batteill fierce arraunged arre. 
In which his harder fortune was to fall 
Under my speare : such is the dye of warre. 
His Lady, left as a prise martiall. 
Did yield her comely person to be at my 

call. 



' So doubly lov'd of ladies, unlike faire, 
Th' one seeming such, the other such 

indeede, 
One day in doubt I cast for to compare 
Whether in beauties glorie did exceede : 
A Rosy girlond was the victors meede. 
Both seemde to win, and both seemde won 

to bee. 
So hard the discord was to be agreede. 
Frselissa was as faire as faire mote bee. 
And ever false Duessa seemde as faire as 

shee. 



' The wicked witch, now seeing all this 
while 
The doubtfull ballaunce equally to sway, 
What not by right she cast to win by 

guile ; 
And by her hellish science raisd streight 

way 
A foggy mist that overcast the day. 
And a dull blast, that breathing' on her 

face 
Dimmed her former beauties shining ray. 
And with foule ugly forme did her dis- 
grace : 
Then was she fay re alone, w^hen none was 
faire in place. 



'Then cride she out, " Fye, fye! de- 
formed wight, 
' Whose borrowed beautie now appeareth 

plaine 
' To have before bewitched all mens sight : 
' O ! leave her soone, or let her soone be 

slaine." 
Her loathly visage viewing with disdaine, 
Eftsoones I thought her such as she me 

told, 
And would have kild her ; but with faigned 

paine 
The false witch did my wrathfull hand 

withhold : 
So left her, where she now is turnd to 

treen mould. 



XL. 

'Thensforth I tooke Duessa for my 

Dame, 
And in the witch unweetingjoyd long time, 
Ne ever wist but that she was the same ; 
Till on a day (that day is everie Prime, 
When Witches wont do penance for their 

crime,) 
I chaunst to see her in her proper hew. 
Bathing her selfe in origane and thyme : 
A filthy foule old woman I did vew. 
That ever to have toucht her I did deadly 

rew. 

XLI. 

* Her neather partes misshapen, mon- 
struous. 

Were hidd in water, that I could not see ; 

But they did seeme more foule and hideous, 

Then womans shape man would beleeve 
to bee. 

Thensforth from her most beastly corn- 
pan ie 

I gan refraine, in minde to slipp away, 



28 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[Book i. 



Soone as appeard safe opportunitie : 
For danger great, if not assurd decay, 
I saw before mine eyes, if I were knowne 
to stray. 

XLII. 

' The divelish hag by chaunges of my 

cheare 
Perceiv'd my thought; and, drownd in 

sleepie night, 
With wicked herbes and oyntments did 

besmeare 
My body all, through charmes and 

magicke might. 
That all my senses were bereaved quight: 
Then brought she me into this desert waste , 
And by my wretched lovers side me pight ; 
Where now, enclosd in wooden wals full 

faste, 
Banisht from living wights, our wearie 

dales we waste.' 



'But how long time,' said then the Elfin 

knight, 
' Are you in this misformed hous to dwell ? ' 
' We may not chaunge,' (quoth he,) ' this 

evill plight, 
Till we be bathed in a living well : 
That is the terme prescribed by the 

spell.' 
' O! how,' sayd he, ' mote I that well out 

find, 
That may restore you to your wonted 

well?' 
' Time and suffised fates to former kynd 



Shall us restore ; none else from hence 
may us unbynd.' 



The false Duessa, now Fidessa hight, 
Heard how in vaine Fradubio did lament. 
And knew well all was true . But the good 

knight, 
Full of sad feare and ghastly dreriment. 
When all this speech the living tree had 

spent, 
The bleeding bough did thrust into the 

ground, 
That from the blood he might be innocent. 
And with fresh clay did close the wooden 

wound : 
Then, turning to his Lady, dead with feare 

her fownd. 

XLV. 

Her seeming dead he fownd with feigned 

feare. 
As all unweeting of that well she knew ; 
And paynd himselfe with busie care to 

reare 
Her out of carelesse swowne. Her eyelids 

blew. 
And dimmed sight, with pale and deadly 

hew. 
At last she up gan lift : with trembling 

cheare 
Her up he tooke, (too simple and too trew) 
And oft her kist. At length, all passed 

feare. 
He set her on her steede, and forward 

forth did beare. 



CANTO HI. 

Forsaken Truth long seekes her love, 
And makes the Lyon mylde ; 

Marres blind Devotions mart, and fals 
In hand of leachour vylde. 



Nought is there under heav'ns wide hol- 

lownesse, 
That moves more deare compassion of 

mind, 
Then beautie brought t'unworthie wretch- 

ednesse 
Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes 

unkind. 
I, whether lately through her brightnes 

blynd. 
Or through alleageance, and fast fealty. 
Which I do owe unto all womankynd, 
Feele my hart perst with so great agony. 
When such I see, that all for pitty I could 

dy. 



And now it is empassioned so deepe, 
For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, 
That my f rayle eies these lines with teares 

do steepe. 
To thinke how she through guyleful 

hand el in g. 
Though true as touch, though daughter 

of a king. 
Though faire as ever living wight was 

fay re. 
Though nor in word nor deede ill merit- 
ing, 
Is from her knight divorced in despayre, 
And her dew loves deryv'-d to that vile 
witches shayre. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



29 



Yet she, most faithfull Ladie, all this 

while 
Forsaken, wofiill, solitarie mayd, 
Far from all peoples preace, as in exile. 
In wildernesse and wastfull deserts strayd, 
To seeke her knight ; who, snbtily betrayd 
Through that late vision which th' En- 

chaunter wrought, 
Had her abaudoud. She, of nought 

atfrayd, 
Through woods and wastnes wide him 

daily sought ; 
Yet wished tydinges none of him unto her 

brought. 



One day, nigh wearie of the yrkesome 
way, 

From her unhastie beast she did alight ; 

And on the grasse her dainty limbs did 
lay 

In secrete shadow, far from all mens 
sight : 

From her fay re head her fillet she undight, 

And layd her stole aside. Her angels 
face, 

As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, 

And made a sunshine in the shady place ; 

Did never mortall eye behold such heav- 
enly grace. 



It fortuned, out of the thickest wood 
A ramping Lyon rushed suddeinly. 
Hunting full greedy after salvage blood. 
Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, 
With gaping mouth at her ran greedily. 
To have attonce devourd her tender corse ; 
But to the pray when as he drew more ny, 
His bloody rage aswaged with remorse, 
And, with the sight amazd, forgat his 
furious forse. 



In stead thereof he kist her wearie 
feet, 

And lickt her lilly hands with fawning 
tong, 

As he her wronged innocence did weet. 

O, how can beautie maister the most 
strong. 

And simple truth subdue avenging wrong I 

Whose yielded pryde and proud sub- 
mission. 

Still dreading death, when she had marked 
long. 

Her hart gan melt in great compassion ; 

And drizling teares did shed for pure 
affection. 



' The Lyon, Lord of everie beast in 

field,' 
Quoth she, 'his princely puissance doth 

abate, 
And mightie proud to humble weake does 

yield, 
ForgetfuU of the hungry rage, which late 
Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : 
But he, my Lyon, and my noble Lord, 
How does he find in cruell hart to hate 
Her, that him lov'd, and ever most adord 
As the God of my life ? why hath he me 

abhord ? ' 

VIII. 

Redounding teares did choke th' end of 

her plaint. 
Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour 

wood ; 
And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint. 
The kingly beast upon her gazing stood : 
With pittie calmd downe fell his angry 

mood. 
At last, in close hart shutting up her 

payne. 
Arose the virgin, borne of heavenly brood, 
And to her snowy Palfrey got agayne. 
To seeke her strayed Champion if she 

might attayne. 



The Lyon would not leave her desolate, 
But with her went along, as a strong 

gard 
Of her chast person, and a faythfull mate 
Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : 
Still, when she slept, he kept both watch 

and ward ; 
And, when she wakt, he way ted diligent. 
With humble service to her will prepard : 
From her fay re eyes he tooke commande- 

ment. 
And ever by her lookes conceived her in- 
tent. 



Long she thus travelled through deserts 

wyde. 
By which she thought her wandring 

knight sliold pas, 
Yet never shew of living wight espyde ; 
Till that at length she found the troden 

gras. 
In which the tract of peoples footing was, 
Under the steepe foot of a mountaine 

bore : 
The same she followes, till at last she has 
A damzel spyde, slow footing her before, 
That on her shoulders sad a pot of water 

bore. 



30 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



To whom approcliiug she to her gan 

call, 
To weet if dwelling place were nigh at 

hand ; 
But the rude wench her answerd nought 

at all: 
She could not heare^ nor speake, nor 

understand ; 
Till, seeing by her side the Lyon stand, 
With suddeine feare her pitcher downe 

she threw, 
And fled away : for never in that land 
Face of fayre Lady she before did vew, 
And that dredd Lyons looke her cast in 

deadly hew. 



Full fast she fled, neeverlookt behynd, 
As if her life upon the wager lay ; 
And home she came, whereas her mother 

blynd 
Sate in eternall night: nought could she 

say ; 
But, suddeine catching hold, did her dis- 
may 
With quaking hands, and other signes of 

feare : 
Who, full of ghastly fright and cold affray, 
Gan shut the dore. By this arrived there 
Dame Una, weary Dame, and entrance 
did requere : 



Which when none yielded, her unruly 
Page 
With his rude clawes the wicket open rent. 
And let her in ; where, of his cruell rage 
Nigh dead with feare, and faint astonish- 
ment, 
Shee found them both in darksome corner 

pent; 
Where that old woman day and night did 

pray 
Upon her beads, devoutly penitent: 
Nine hundred Pater nosters every day, 
And thrise nine hundred Aves she was 
wont to say. 



And to augment her painefull penaunce 

more, 
Thrise every weeke in ashes shee did sitt, 
And next her wrinkled skin rough sacke- 

cloth wore, 
And thrise three times did fast from any 

bitt ; 
But now, for feare her beads she did for- 

gett: 
Whose needlesse dread for to remove 

away, 



Faire Una framed words and count'naunce 

fitt; 
Which hardly doen, at length she gan them 

pray. 
That in their cotage small that night she 

rest her may. 



The day is spent; and commethdrowsie 

night, 
When every creature shrowded is in 

sleepe. 
Sad Una downe her laies in weary plight. 
And at her feete the Lyon watch doth 

keepe : 
In stead of rest she does lament and weepe, 
For the late losse of her deare loved 

knight. 
And sighes, and grones, and evermore 

does steepe 
Her tender brest in bitter teares all night ; 
All night she thinks too long, and often 

lookes for light. 

XVI. 

Now when Aldeboran was mounted hye 
Above the shinie Cassiopeias chaire, 
And all in deadly sleepe did drowned lye 
One knocked at the dore, and in would 

fare : 
He knocked fast, and often curst, and 

sware. 
That ready entraunce was not at his call ; 
For on his backe a heavy load he bare 
Of nightly stelths, and pillage severall, 
Which he had got abroad by purchas 

crimiuall. 



He was, to weete, a stout and sturdy 
thiefe. 
Wont to robbe churches of their orna- 
ments, 
And poore mens boxes of their due relief e, 
Which given was to them for good intents : 
The holy Saints of their rich vestiments 
He did disrobe, Avhen all men carelesse 

slept. 
And spoild the Priests of their habili- 
ments ; 
Whiles none the holy things in safety 

kept. 
Then he by conning sleights in at the 
window crept. 

XVIII. 

And all that he by right or wrong could 
find. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



31 



Unto this house he brought, aud did 

bestow 
Upon the daughter of this woman blind, 
Abessa, daughter of Corceca slow, 
With whom he whoredome usd, that few 

did know, 
And fed her fatt with feast of offerings. 
And plenty, which in all the land did 

grow: 
Ne spared he to give her gold and rings ; 
And now he to her brought part of his 
stolen things. 



Thus, long the dore with rage and 
threats he bett, 

Yet of those fearfull women none durst 
rize, 

The Lyon frayed them, him in to lett. 

He would no lenger stay him to advize. 

But open breakes the dore in furious wize. 

And entring is, when that disdainful! 
beast, 

Encountring fierce, him suddein doth sur- 
prize ; 

And, seizing cruell claw^es on trembling 
brest, 

Under his Lordly foot him proudly hath 
supprest. 



Him booteth not resist, nor succour call, 

His bleeding hart is in the vengers hand ; 

Who streight him rent in thousand peeces 
small, 

And quite dismembred hath : the thirsty 
land 

Dronke up his life ; his corse left on the 
strand. 

His fearef nil f reends weare out the wof ull 
night, 

Ne dare to weepe,nor seeme to understand 

The heavie hap which on them is alight ; 

Affraid least to themselves the like mis- 
happen might. 



Now when broad day the world discov- 
ered has. 

Up Una rose, up rose the lyon eke ; 

And on their former journey forward 
pas, 

In waies unknowne, her wandring knight 
to seeke. 

With paines far passing that long wan- 
dring Greeke, 

That for his love refused deitye. 

Such were the labours of this Lady meeke, 

Still seeking him, that from her still did 

flye; 



Then furthest from her hope, when most 
she weened nye. 



Soone as she parted thence, the fearfull 

twayne. 
That blind old woman, and her daughter 

dear. 
Came forth ; and, finding Kirkrapine there 

slayne. 
For anguish great they gan to rend their 

heare. 
And beat their brests, and naked flesh to 

teare : 
And when they both had wept and wayld 

their fill. 
Then forth they ran, like two amazed 

deare, 
Halfe mad through malice and revenging 

will. 
To follow her that was the causer of their 

ill. 



Whome overtaking, they gan loudly 

bray, 
With hollow houling, and lamenting cry ; 
Shamefully at her rayling all the way. 
And her accusing of dishonesty. 
That was the flowre of faith and chastity : 
And still, amidst her rayling, she did pray 
That plagues, and mischiefes, and long 

misery. 
Might fall on her, and follow all the way, 
And that in endlesse error she might ever 

stray. 

XXIV. 

But, when she saw her prayers nought 

prevaile, 
Shee backe retourned with some labour 

lost; 
And in the way, as shee did weepe and 

waile, 
Aknight hermett in mighty armesembost. 
Yet knight was not for all his bragging 

host; 
But subtill Archimag, that Una sought 
By traynes into new troubles to have 

toste : 
Of that old woman tidings he besought. 
If that of such a Lady shee could tellen 

ought. 

XXV. 

Therewith she gan her passion to renew. 
And cry, and curse, and raile, and rend 

her heare, 
Saying, that harlott she too lately knew, 
That causd her shed so many a bitter 

teare ; 
And so forth told the story of her feare. 



32 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



iNIuch seemed he to moue her haplesse 

chaunce, 
And after for that Lady did inquere ; 
Which being taught, he forward gau 

advaunce 
His fair enehaunted steed, and eke his 

charmed lauuce. 



XXVI. 

Ere long he came where Una traveild 

slow, 
And that wilde champion wayting her 

besyde ; 
Whome seeing such, for dread hee durst 

not show 
Him selfe too nigh at hand, but turned 

wyde 
Unto an hil ; from whence when she him 

spyde, 
By his like seeming shield her knight by 

name 
She weend it was, and towards him gan 

ride : 
Approaching nigh she wist it was the same ; 
And with faire fearefull humblesse to- 

w^ards him shee came : 

XXVII. 

And weeping said, ' Ah, my long lacked 

Lord, 
Where have ye bene thus long out of my 

sight ? 
Much feared I to have bene quite abhord. 
Or ought have done, that ye displeasen 

might. 
That should as death unto my deare heart 

light : 
For since mine eie your joyous sight did 

mis. 
My chearefull day is turnd to chearelesse 

night. 
And eke my night of death the shadow is ; 
But welcome now, my light, and shining 

lampe of blis ! ' 

XXVIII. 

He thereto meeting said, 'My dearest 

Dame, 
Far be it from your thought, and fro my 

wil, 
To thinke that knighthood I so much 

should shame, 
As you to leave that have me loved stil, 
And chose in Faery court, of meere good- 

wil, 
AVhere noblest knights were to be found 

on earth. 
The earth shall sooner leave her kindly 

skil 



To bring forth fruit, and make eternal 

derth, 
Then I leave you, my liefe, yborn of hev- 

euly berth. 

XXIX. 

'And sooth to say, why I lefte you so 
long. 
Was for to seeke adventure in straunge 

place ; 
Where, Archimago said, a felon strong 
To many knights did daily worke disgrace ; 
But knight he now shall never more de- 
face: 
Good cause of mine excuse, that mote ye 

please 
Well to accept, and evermore embrace 
My faithf ull service, that by land and seas 
Have vowd you to defend. Now then, 
your plaint appease.' 

XXX. 

His lovely words her seemd due recom- 

pence 
Of all her passed paines : one loving howre 
For many yeares of sorrow can dispence ; 
A dram of sweete is worth a pound of 

sowre. 
Shee has forgott how many a woeful 

stowre 
For him she late endurd ; she speakes no 

more 
Of past: true is, that true love hath no 

powre 
To looken backe ; his eies be fixt before. 
Before her stands her knight, for whom 

she toyld so sore. , ,• , •. • 

/ XXXI. " 

Much like, as when the beaten marinere. 
That long hath wandred in the Ocean wide, 
Of te soust in swelling Tethys saltish teare ; 
And long time having taud his ta\\niey hide 
With blustring breath of Heaven, that 

none can bide, 
And scorching flames of fierce Orious 

hound ; 
Soone as the port from far he has espide, 
His chearfull whistle merily doth sound, 
And Nereus crownes with cups ; his mates 

him pledg around. 



y 



XXXII. 

Such joy made Una, when her knight 

she found ; 
And eke th' enchaunter joyous seemde 

no lesse 
Then the glad marchant, that does vew 

from ground 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



33 



His ship far come from watrie wilder- 

nesse ; 
He hurles out vowes, and Neptune oft 

doth blesse. 
So forth they past ; and all the way they 

spent 
Discoursing of her dreadful late distresse, 
In which he askt her, what the Lyon ment ; 
Who told her all that fell, in journey as 

she went. 

XXXIII. 

They had not ridden far, when they 

might see 
One pricking towards them with hastie 

heat, 
Full strongly armd, and on a courser free 
That through his tiersnesse fomed all with 

sweat, 
And the sharpe yrou did for anger eat, 
When his hot ryder spurd his chauffed 

side : 
His looke was sterne, and seemed still to 

threat 
Cruell revenge, which he in hart did hyde ; 
And on his shield Sansloy in bloody lines 

was dyde. 

XXXIV. 

When nigh he drew unto this gentle 
pay re. 

And saw the Red-crosse which the knight 
did beare, 

He burnt in fire ; and gan eftsoones pre- 
pare 

Himselfe to batteill with his couched 
speare. 

Loth was that other, and did faint through 
feare. 

To taste th' untryed dint of deadly Steele : 

But yet his Lady did so well him cheare. 

That hope of new good hap he gan to f eele ; 

So bent his speare, and spurd his horse 
with yron heele. 



But that proud Paynim forward came 

so ferce 
And full of wrath, that, with his sharp- 
head speare, 
Through vainly crossed shield he quite 

did perce ; 
And, had his staggering steed not shronke 

for feare, 
Through shield and body eke he should 

him beare : 
Yet, so great was the puissance of his push. 
That from his sadle quite he did him beare. 
He, tombling rudely dovvne, to ground did 

rush. 
And from his gored wound a well of bloud 

did gush. 



Dismounting lightly from his loftie 

steed. 
He to him lept, in minde to reave his life, 
And proudly said ; ' Lo ! there the worthie 

meed 
Of him that slew Sansfoy with bloody 

knife : 
Henceforth his ghost, freed from repining 

strife, 
In peace may passen over Lethe lake; 
When mourning altars, purgd with eni- 

mies life, 
The black infernall Furies doen aslake : 
Life from Sansfoy thou tookst, Sansloy 

shall from thee take.' 



Therewith in haste his helmet gan un- 
lace. 
Till Una cride, ' O ! hold that heavie hand, 
Deare Sir, what ever that thou be in place : 
Enough is, that thy foe doth vanquisht 

stand 
Now at thy mercy : Mercy not withstand ; 
For he is one the truest knight alive. 
Though conquered now he lye on lowly 

land ; 
And, whilest him fortune favourd, fay re 

did thrive 
In bloudy field ; therefore, of life him not 
deprive.' 

XXXVIII. 

Her piteous wordes might not abate his 

rage, 
But, rudely rending up his helmet, would 
Have slayne him streight; but when he 

sees his age. 
And hoarie head of Archimago old, 
His hasty hand he doth amased hold, 
And halfe ashamed wondred at the sight: 
For the old man well knew he, though 

untold, 
In charmes and magick to have wondrous 

might, 
Ne ever wont in field, ne in round lists, 

to fight : 

XXXIX. 

And said, ' Why Archimago, lucklesse 

syre. 
What doe I see? what hard mishap is 

this, 
That hath thee hether brought to taste 

mine yre? 
Or thine the fault, or mine the error is, 
In stead of foe to wound my friend amis? ' 
He answered nought, but in a traunce 

still lay. 
And on those guilefull dazed eyes of his 



34 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



The cloude of death did sit. Which doen 

away, 
He left him lying so, ne would no lenger 

stay : 

XL. 

But to the virgin comes ; who all this 

while 
Amased stands, her selfe so mockt to see 
By him, who has the guerdon of his guile, 
For so misfeigning her true knight to 

bee: 
Yet is she now in more perplexitie, 
Left in the hand of that same Paynim 

bold. 
From whom her booteth not at all to flie : 
Who, by her cleanly garment catching 

hold, 
Her from her Palfrey pluckt, her visage 

to behold. 

XLI. 

But her fiers servant, full of kingly aw 
And high disdaine, whenas his soveraine 

Dame 
So rudely handled by her foe he saw. 
With gaping jawes full greedy at him 

came. 
And, ramping on his shield, did weene the 

same 
Have reft away with his sharp rending 

clawes : 
But he was stout, and lust did now inflame 
His corage more, that from his griping 

pawes 
He hath his shield redeemd, and forth his 

swerd he drawes. 

XLII. 

O! then, too weake and feeble was the 
forse 

Of salvage beast his puissance to with- 
stand ; 

For he was strong, and of so mightie 
corse. 

As ever wielded speare in warlike hand, 



And feates of armes did wisely under- 
stand. 

Eft soones he perced through his chaufed 
chest 

With thrilling point of deadly yron brand. 

And launcht his Lordly hart : with death 
opprest 

He ror'd aloud, whiles life forsooke his 
stubborne brest. 



Wlio now is left to keepe the forlorne 

maid 
From raging spoile of lawlesse victors 

will? 
Her faithfull gard remov'd, her hope dis- 

maid. 
Her selfe a yielded pray to save or spill : 
He now, Lord of the field, his pride to fill, 
With foule reproches and disdaineful 

spight 
Her vildly entertaines; and, will or nill, 
Beares her away upon his courser light : 
Her prayers nought prevaile, his rage is 

more of might, 

XLIV. 

And all the way, with great lamenting 

paine, 
And piteous plaintes, she filleth his dull 

eares. 
That stony hart could riven have in 

twaine ; 
And all the way she wetts with flowing 

teares ; 
But he, enrag'd with rancor, nothing 

heares. 
Her servile beast yet would not leave her 

so. 
But followes her far off, ne ought he 

feares 
To be partaker of her wandring woe ; 
More mild in beastly kind then that her 

beastly foe. 



CANTO IV. 

To sinfull hous of Prvde Diiessa 

Guydes the faithfull knight ; 
Where, brothers death to wreak, Sans.joy 

Doth chaleng him to fight. 



YouNO knight whatever, that dost 

armes prof esse, 
And through long labours huntest after 

fame, 
Beware of fraud, beware of ficklenesse, 
In choice, and chaunge of thy deare-loved 

Dame; 



Least thou of her believe too lightly 

blame. 
And rash misweening doe thy hart re- 
move : 
For unto knight there is no greater shame 
Then lightnesse, and inconstancie in love : 
That doth this Redcrosse knights en- 
sample plainly prove. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



35 



Who, after that he had faire Una lorne, 
Through light misdeeming of her loialtie ; 
A.ud false Duessa in her sted had home, 
'ailed Fidess', and so supposd to be. 
Long with her traveild ; till at last they 

see 
A goodly building bravely garnished ; 
The house of mightie Prince it seemd 

to be, 
And towards it a broad high way that 

led, 
All bare through peoples feet which 

thether travelled. 



Great troupes of people traveild theth- 

erward 
Both day and night, of each degree and 

place ; 
But few returned, having scaped hard. 
With balefull beggery, or foule disgrace; 
Which ever after in most wretched case, 
Like loathsome lazars, by the hedges lay. 
Thether Duessa badd him bend his pace. 
For she is wearie of the toilsom way. 
And also nigh consumed is the lingring 

day. 



A stately Pallace built of squared 

bricke, 
Which cunningly was without morter 

laid, 
Whose \Yals were high, but nothing 

strong nor thick. 
And golden foile all over them displaid, 
That purest skye with brightnesse they 

dismaid : 
High lifted up were many loftie towres, 
And goodly galleries far over laid. 
Full of faire windowes and delightful 

botvres : 
And on the top a Diall told the timely 

howres. 



It was a goodly heape for to behould, 
And spake the praises of the workmans 

Witt; 
But full great pittie, that so faire a mould 
Did on so weake foundation ever sitt : 
For oil a sandie hill, that still did flitt 
And fall away, it mounted was full hie. 
That every breath of heaven shaked itt : 
And all the hinder partes, that few could 

spie, 
W^ere ruinous and old, but painted cun- 
ningly. 



Arrived there, they passed in forth 

right; 
For still to all the gates stood open wide : 
Yet charge of them was to a Porter hight, 
Cald Malvenu, who entrance none denide : 
Thence to the hall, which was on every 

side 
With rich array and costly arras dight. 
Infinite sortes of people did abide 
There waiting long, to win the wished sight 
Of her, that was the Lady of that Pallace 

bright. 



By them they passe, all gazing on them 
round, 
And to the Presence mount ; whose glori- 
ous vew 
Their frayle amazed senses did confound : 
In living Princes court none ever knew 
Such endlesse richesse, and so sumpteous 

shew ; 
Ne Persia selfe, the nourse of pompous 

pride, 
Like ever saw. And there a noble crew 
Of Lords and Ladies stood on every side. 
Which with their i^resence fayre the place 
much beautifide. 



' High al)ove all a cloth of State was spred. 
And a rich throne, as bright as sunny day; 
On which there sate, most brave embel- 
lished 
With royall robes and gorgeous array, 
A mayden Queene that shone as Titans 

i-ay. 
In glistring gold and perelesse pretious 

stone ; 
Yet her bright blazing beautie did assay 
To dim the brightnesse of her glorious 

throne, 
As envying her selfe, that too exceeding 
shone : 

)^ 

Exceeding shone, like Phoebus faj^rest 
childe, 

That did presume his fathers fyrie wayne. 

And flaming mouthes of steedes, un- 
wonted wilde. 

Through highest heaven with weaker hand 
to rayne : 

Proud of such glory and advancement 
vayne. 

While flashing beames do daze his feu: 1ft 
eyen, 

He leaves the welkin way most beaten 
playne, 



36 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



And, rapt with whirling wheeles, inflames 

the skyen 
With fire not made to burne, but fayrely 

for to shyne. 



>o proud she shyned in her princely 

state, 
Looking to heaven, for earth she did dis- 

dayne. 
And sitting high, for lowly she did hate : 
Lo! underneath her seornefull feete was 

layne 
A dreadfull Dragon with an hideous 

trayne ; 
And in her hand she held a mirrhour 

bright. 
Wherein her face she often vewed fayne. 
And in her selfe-lov'd semblance took de- 
light; 
For she was wondrous faire, as any living 

wight. 

XI. 

Of griesly Pluto she the daughter was, 
And sad Proserpina, the Queene of hell ; 
Yet did she thinke her pearelesse worth to 

pas 
That parentage, with pride so did she 

swell ; 
And thundring Jove, that high in heaven 

doth dwell 
And wield the world, she claymed for her 

syre, 
Or if that any else did Jove excell ; 
For to the highest she did still aspyre. 
Or, if ought higher were than that, did it 

desyre. 

XII. 

And proud Lucifera men did her call. 
That made her selfe a Queene, and crownd 

to be; 
Yet rightf ull kingdome she had none at all, 
Ne heritage of native soveraintie ; 
But did usurpe with wrong and tyrannic 
Upon the scepter which she now did hold : 
Ne ruld her Realme with lawes, but polli- 

cie, 
And strong advizement of six wisards old. 
That, with their counsels bad, her king- 
dome did uphold. 



Soone as the Elfin knight in presence 

came. 
And false Duessa, seeming Lady fayre, 
A gentle Huslier, Vanitie by name. 
Made rowme, ? -J passage for them did 

prepaire : 
So goodly brought them to the lowest 

stay re 



Of her high throne ; where they, on hum- 
ble knee 

Making obeysaunce, did the cause declare, 

Why they were come her roiall state to ^ 
see, 

To prove the wide report of her great 
Majestee. 

XIV. 

With loftie eyes, halfe loth to looke so 

lowe, 
She thancked them in her disdainefull 

wise ; 
Ne other grace vouchsafed them to showe 
Of Princesse worthy; scarse them bad 

arise. 
Her Lordes and Ladies all this while de- 
vise 
Themselves to setten forth to straungers 

sight : 
Some frounce their curled heare in courtly 

guise ; 
Some prancke their ruffes ; and others 

trimly dight 
Their gay attyre ; each others greater 

pride does spight. 

XV. 

Goodly they all that knight doe enter- 

tayne. 
Right glad with him to have increast their 

crew ; 
But to Duess' each one himselfe did payne 
All kindnesse and faire courtesie to shew, 
For in that court whylome her well they 

knew : 
Yet the stout Faery mongst the middest 

crowd 
Thought all their glorie vaine in knightly 

vew. 
And that great Princesse too exceeding 

prowd. 
That to strange knight no better counte- 
• nance allowd. 

XVI. 

Suddein upriseth from her stately place 
The roiall Dame, and for her coche doth 

call: 
All hurtlen forth ; and she, with princely 

pace, 
As faire Aurora in her purple pall 
Out of the East the dawning day doth 

call. 
So forth she comes ; her brightnes brode 

doth blaze. 
The heapes of people, thronging in the 

hall. 
Doe ride each other upon her to gaze : 
Her glorious glitteraud light doth all 

mens eies amaze. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



37 



So forth she comes, and to her coche 
does clyme, 

Adorned all with gold and girlonds gay, 

That seemd as fresh as Flora in her prime ; 

And strove to match, in roiall rich array, 

Great Junoes golden chayre ; the which, 
they say, 

The gods stand gazing on, when she does 
ride 

To Joves high hous through heavens bras- 
paved way, 

Drawne of fayre Pecocks, that excell in 
pride, 

And full of Argus eyes their tayles dis- 
predden wide. 



But this was drawne of six unequall 
beasts. 
On which her six sage Counsellours did 

ryde. 
Taught to obay their bestiall beheasts 
"With like conditions to their kindes ap- 
ply de : 
Of which the first, that all the rest did 

guyde, 
Was sluggish Idlenesse, the nourse of sin ; 
Upon a slouthfull Asse he chose to ryde, 
"Arayd in habit blacke, and amis thin. 
Like to an holy Monck, the service to 
begin. 



And in his hand his Portesse still he 

bare. 
That much was worne, but therein little 

redd ; 
For of devotion he had little care. 
Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his 

dales dedd : 
Scarse could he once uphold his heavie 

hedd, 
To looken whether it were night or day. 
May seeme the wayne was very evill ledd, 
"When such an one had guiding of the way, 
That knew not whether right he went, or 

else astray. 



From worldly cares himselfe he did 

esloyne. 
And greatly shunned manly exercise ; 
From everie worke he chalenged essoyne. 
For contemplation sake : yet otherwise 
His life he led in lawlesse riotise, 
By which he grew to grievous malady ; 
For in his lustlesse limbs, through evill 

guise, 



A shaking fever raignd continually. 
Such one was Idlenesse, first of this com- 
pany. 

XXI. 

And by his side rode loathsome Gluttony, 
Deformed creature, on a filthie swyne. 
His belly was npblowne with luxury. 
And eke with tatuesse swollen were his 

eyne; 
And like a Crane his necke was long and 

fyne 
"With which he swallowed up excessive 

feast, 
For want whereof poore people oft did 

pyne: 
And all the way, most like a brutish beast, 
He spued up his gorge, that all did him 

deteast. 

XXII. 

In greene vine leaves he was right fitly 

clad. 
For other clothes he could not weare for 

heate ; 
And on his head an yvie girland had. 
From under which fast trickled dowiie the 

sweat. 
Still as he rode he someM^hat still did eat, 
And in his hand did beare a bouzing can. 
Of which he supt so oft, that on his seat 
His dronken corse he scarse upholden can: 
In shape and life more like a monster then 

a man. 

xxni. 
Unfit he was for any worldly thing, 
And eke unhable once to stirre or go ; 
Not meet to be of counsell to a king. 
Whose mind in meat and drinke was 

drowned so. 
That from his f rend he seeldome knew his 

fo. 
Full of diseases was his carcas blew. 
And a dry dropsie through his flesh did 

flow, 
Which by misdiet daily greater grew. 
Such one was Gluttony, the second of that 

crew. 

XXIV. 

And next to him rode lustfull Lechery 
Upon a bearded Gote, whose rugged heare, 
And whally eies (the signe of gelosy,) 
Was like the person selfe whom he did 

beare : 
Who rough, and blacke, and filthy, did ap- 

peare, 
Unseemely man to please faire Ladies eye ; 
Yet he of f-adies ol\ jvas loved deare, 
When faire/ faces were bid standen by : 
O! who does know the bent of womeus 

fantasy ? 



38 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I, 



In a greene gowiie he clothed was full 

faire, 
Which underneath did hide his filthinesse ; 
And in his hand a burning hart he bare, 
Full of vaine follies and new fanglenesse : 
For he was false, and fraught witli fickle- 

nesse, 
And learned had to love with secret lookes ; 
And well could daunce, and sing with rue- 

f ulnesse ; 
And fortunes tell, and read in loving 

bookes, 
And thousand other waies to bait his 

fleshly hookes. 

XXVI. 

Inconstant man, that loved all he saw, 
And lusted after all that he did love ; 
Ne would his looser life be tide to law. 
But joyd weake wemens hearts to tempt, 

and prove. 
If from their loiall loves he might them 

move: 
Which lewdnes fild him with reprochfull 

pain 
Of that foule evill, which all men reprove, 
That rotts the marrow, and consumes the 

braine. 
Such one was Lechery, the third of all 

this traine. 

XXVII. 

And greedy Avarice by him did ride, 
Uppon a Camell loaden all with gold ; 
Two iron coffers hong on either side. 
With precious metall full as they might 

hold; 
And in his lap an heap of coine he told ; 
For of his wicked pelfe his God he made, 
And unto hell him selfe for money sold : 
Accui'sed usury was all his trade. 
And right and wrong ylike in equall bal- 

launce waide. 

XXVIII. 

His life was nigh unto deaths dore 

yplaste ; 
And thred-bare cote, and cobled shoes, hee 

ware ; 
Ne scarse good morsell all his life did taste. 
But both from backe and belly still did 

spare, 
To fill his bags, and richesse to compare : 
Yet childe ne kinsman living had he none 
To leave them to : but thorough daily care 
To get, and nightly feare to lose hisowne. 
He led a wretched life, unto himselfe un- 

knowne. 



Most wretched wight, whom nothing 

might suftise ; 
Whose greedy lust did lacke in greatest 

store ; 
Whose need had end, but no end covetise ; 
Whose welth was want, whose plenty made 

him pore ; 
Who had enough, yett wished ever more ; 
A vile disease : and eke in foote and hand 
A grievous gout tormented him full sore, 
That well he could not touch, nor goe, nor 

stand. 
Such one was Avarice, the fourth of this 

faire band. 



And next to him malicious Envy rode 
Upon a ravenous wolfe, and still did chaw 
Between his caukred teeth a venemous 

tode. 
That all the poison ran about his chaw ; 
But inwardly he chawed his owne maw 
At neighbours welth, that made him ever 

sad, 
For death it was, when any good he saw ; 
And wept, that cause of weeping none he 

had; 
But when he heard of harme he wexed 

wondrous glad. 



All in a kirtle of discolourd say 
He clothed was, ypaynted full of eies; 
And in his bosome secretly there lay 
An hateful! Snake, the which his taile up- 

tyes 
In many folds, and mortall sting implyes. 
Still as he rode he gnasht his teeth to 

see 
Those heapes of gold with griple Covetyse; 
And grudged at the great felicitee 
Of proud Lucifera, and his owne com- 

panee. 

XXXII. 

He hated all good workes and vertuous 
deeds. 

And him no lesse, that any like did use ; 

And who with gratious bread the hungry 
feeds, 

His almes for want of faith he doth ac- 
cuse. 

So every good to bad he doth abuse ; 

And eke the verse of famous Poets witt 

He does backebite, and spightfuU poison 
spues 

From leprous mouth on all that ever 
writt. 

Such one vile Envy was, that fifte in row 
did sitt. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



39 



And him beside rides fierce revenging 

Wrath, 
Upon a Lion, loth for to be led ; 
And in his hand a burning brond he hath. 
The which he brandisheth about his hed : 
His eiesdid hurle forth sparcles fiery red. 
And stared sterne on all that him beheld ; 
As ashes pale of hew, and seeming ded ; 
And on his dagger still his hand he held, 
Trembling through hasty rage when choler 

in him sweld. 



His ruffin raiment all was staiud with 
blood 
Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent. 
Through unadvized rashnes woxen wood ; 
For of his hands he had no governement, 
Ne car'd for blood in his avengement : 
But, when the furious fitt was overpast, 
His cruel facts he often would repent ; 
Yet, wilfull man, he never would forecast 
How many mischieves should ensue his 
heedlesse hast. 

XXXV. 

Full many mischiefes follow cruell 
Wrath : 
Abhorred bloodshed, and tumultuous 

strife, 
Unmanly murder, and unthrifty scath. 
Bitter despight, with rancours rusty 

knife. 
And fretting griefe, the enemy of life: 
All these, and many evils moe haunt ire. 
The swelling Splene, and Frenzy raging 

rife. 
The shaking Palsey, and Saint Fraunces 

fire. 
Such one was Wrath, the last of this un- 
godly tire. 

XXXVI. 

And, after all, upon the wagon beame, 
Rode Sathan with a smarting whip in 

hand, 
With which he forward lasht the laesy 

teme. 
So oft as Slowth still in the mire did 

stand. 
Huge routs of people did about them 

band, 
Showting for joy ; and still before their 

way 
A foggy mist had covered all the land ; 
And, underneath their feet, all scattered 

lay 
Dead sculls and bones of men whose life 

had gone astray. 



So forth they marchen in this goodly 

sort. 
To take the solace of the open aire, 
And in fresh flo wring fields themselves 

to sport : 
Emongst the rest rode that false Lady 

faire. 
The foule Duessa, next unto the chaire 
Of proud Lucifer', as one of the traine : 
But that good knight would not so nigh 

repaire. 
Him selfe estraunging from their joyaunce 

vaine, 
Whose fellowship seemd far uufitt for 

warlike swaine. 



So, having solaced themselves a space 
With pleasaunce of the breathing fields 

yfed, 
They backe retourned to the princely 

Place ; 
Whereas an errant knight inarmesycled. 
And heathnish shield, wherein with letters 

red. 
Was writt Scuisjoy, they new arrived 

find: 
Enflam'd with fury and fiers hardy hed. 
He seemd in hart to harbour thoughts 

unkind, 
And nourish bloody vengeaunce in his 

bitter mind. 



Who, when the shamed shield of slaine 

Sansfoy 
He spide with that same Faery champions 

page, 
Bewraying him that did of late destroy 
His eldest brother ; burning all with 

rage, 
He to him lept, and that same envious 

gage 
Of victors glory from him snacht away : 
But th' Elfin knight, which ought that 

warlike wage, 
Disdaind to loose the meed he wonne in 

fray; 
And, him rencountring fierce, reskewd 

the noble pray. 



Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily. 
Redoubted battaile ready to darrayne. 
And clash their shields, and shake their 

swerds on by, 
That with their sturre they troubled all 

the traine ; 






40 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Till that great Queeue, upon eternall 

palne 
Of high displeasure that ensewen might, 
Commaunded them their fury to refraine ; 
And, if that either to that shield had 

right. 
In equall lists they should the morrow 

next it fight. 



' All dearest Dame,' quoth then the Pay- 

nim bold, 
' Pardon the error of enraged wight, 
Whome great griefe made forgett the 

raines to hold 
Of reasons rule, to see this recreaunt 

knight. 
No knight, but treachour full of false 

despight 
And shameful treason, who through guile 

hath slayu 
The prowest knight that ever field did 

fight, 
Even stout Sansfoy, (O who can then 

refrayn?) 
Whose shield he beares renverst, the 

more to heap disdayn. 



XLII. 

' And, to augment the glorie of his guile. 
His dearest love, the faire Fidessa, loe! 
Is there possessed of the traytour vile ; 
Who reapes the haffvest sowen by his 

foe, 
Sowen in bloodie field, and bought with 

woe: 
That brothers hand shall dearely well 

req night. 
So be, O Queene! you equall favour 

showe.' 
Him litle answerd th' angry Elfin knight; 
He never meant with words, but swords, 

to plead his right : 



But threw his gauntlet, as a sacred 

pledge 
His cause in combat the next day to try : 
So been they parted both, with harts on 

edge 
To be aveng'd each on his eniray. 
That night they pas in joy and jollity. 
Feasting and courting both in bowre and 

hall; 
For Steward was excessive Gluttony, 
Tiiat of his plenty poured forth to all : 
Which doen, the Chamberlain, Slowth, 

did to rest them call. 



Now whenas darkesome night had all 

displayd 
Her coleblacke curtein over brightest 

skye; 
The warlike youthes, on dayntie couches 

layd. 
Did chace away sweet sleepe from sluggish 

eye, 
To muse on meanes of hoped victory. 
But whenas Morpheus had with leaden 

mace 
Arrested all that courtly company. 
Uprose Duessa from her resting place. 
And to the Paynims lodging comes with 

silent pace. 



Whom broad awake she findes, in 

troublous fitt, 
Fore-casting how his foe he might annoy ; 
And him amoves with speaches seeming 

fitt: 
' Ah deare Sansjoy, next dearest to 

Sansfoy, 
Cause of my new griefe, cause of my new 

Joyous to see his ymage in mine eye, 
Aiid greevd to thinke how foe did him 

destroy. 
That was the flowre of grace and 

chevalrye ; 
Lo ! his Fidessa, to thy secret faith I flye.' 

XLVI. 

With gentle wordes he can her fayrely 

greet. 
And bad say on the secrete of her hart : 
Then, sighing soft; 'I learne that litle 

sweet 
Oft tempred is,' (quoth she,) ' with 

muchell smart: 
For since my brest was launcht with 

lovely dart 
Of deare Sansfoy, I never joyed howre. 
But in eternall woes my weaker hart 
Have wasted, loving him with all my 

powre, 
And for his sake have felt full many an 

heavie stowre. 

XLVII. 

' At last, when perils all I weened past. 
And hop'd to reape the crop of all my 

care, 
Into new woes unweeting I was cast 
By this false faytor, who unworthie ware 
His worthie shield, whom he with guile- 
full snare 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E, 



41 



Entrapped slew, and brought to shamef uU 

grave : 
Me, silly maid, away with him he bare, 
And ever since hath kept in darksom 

cave, 
For that I would not yeeld that to Sans- 

foy I gave. 

XLVIII. 

' But since faire Sunne hath'sperst that 

lowring clowd. 
And to my loathed life now shewes some 

light, 
Under your beames I will me safely 

shrowd 
From dreaded storme of his disdainfull 

spight : 
To you th' inheritance belonges by right 
Of brothers prayse, to you eke louges his 

love. 
Let not his love, let not his restlesse 

spright. 
Be unreveng'd, that calles to you above 
From wandring Stygian shores, where it 

doth endlesse move.' 



Thereto said he, ' Faire Dame, be nought 

dismaid 
For sorrowes past; their griefe is with 

them gone : 
Ne yet of present perill be affraid, 
For needlesse feare did never vantage 

none; 
And helplesse hap it bootethnot to mone. 
Dead is Sansfoy, his vitall paines are past. 
Though greeved ghost for vengeance deep 

do grone : 



He lives that shall him pay his dewties 

last. 
And guiltie Eltin blood shall sacrifice in 

hast.' 

L. 

' O ! but I feare the fickle f reakes,' 

(quoth shee) 
' Of fortune false, and oddes of armes in 

field.' 
' Why, dame,' (quoth he) ' what oddes 

can ever bee, 
Where both doe fight alike, to win or 

yield ? ' 
' Yea, but,' (quoth she) ' he beares a 

charmed shield. 
And eke enchauuted armes, that none 

can perce ; 
Ne none can wound the man that does 

them wield.' 
' Charmd or enchaunted,' auswerd he 

then ferce, 
' I no whitt reck ; ne you the like need to 

reherce. 

LI. 

* But, faire Fidessa, sithens fortunes 

guile, 
Or enimiespowre, hath nowcaptivedyou, 
Returue from whence ye came, and rest 

a while, 
Till morrow next that I the Elfe subdew, 
And with Sansfoyes dead dowry you 

endew.' 
'Ah me! that is a double death,' (she 

said) 
' With proud foes sight my sorrow to 

renew, 
Where ever yet I be, my secret aide 
Shall follow you.' So, passing forth, she 

him obaid. 



CANTO V. 

The faithful! knight in equall field 
Subdewes his faithlesse foe ; 

Whom false Duessa saves, and for 
His cure to hell does goe. 



The noble hart that harbours vertuous 

thought, 
And is withchilde of glorious great intent, 
Can never rest, uutill it forth have brought 
Th'eternall brood of glorie excellent : 
Such restlesse passion did all night 

torment 
The flaming corage of that Faery knight. 
Devizing how that doughtie turnament 
With greatest honour he atchieven might : 
Still did he wake, and still did watch for 

dawning light. 



II. 

At last, the golden Oi'ientall gate 
Of greatest heaven gau to open fayre ; 
And Phoebus, fresh as brydegrome to his 

mate, 
Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie 

hay re. 
And hurld his glistring beams through 

gloomy ayre. 
Which when the wakeful Elfe perceiv'd, 

streight way, 
He started up, and did him selfe prepayre 
In sunbright armes, and battailous array ; 



X}'^- 



>j\^>\^ \AA^ 



42 



^^•- 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



For with that Pagan proud lie combatt 
will that day. 



And forth he comes into the commune 

hall; 
Where earely walte him many a gazing 

eye, 
To weet what end to straunger knights 

may fall. 
There many Minstrales maken melody, 
To drive away the dull melancholy ; 
And many Bardes, that to the trembling 

chord 
Can tune their timely voices cunningly; 
And many Chroniclers, that can record 
Old loves, and warres for Ladies doeu by 

many a Lord. 



Soone after comes the cruell Saraziu, 
In woven Maile all armed warily; 
And sternly lookes at him, who not a pin 
Does care for looke of living creatures eye. 
They bring them wines of Greece and 

Araby, 
And daintie spices fetch from furthest 

Ynd, 
To kindle heat of corage privily; 
And in the wine a solemne oth they bynd 
T'observe the sacred lawes of amies that 

are assynd. 

V. 

At last forth comes that far renowmed 
Queene : 
With royall pomp and princely majestie 
She is ybrought unto a paled greene, 
And placed under stately canapee. 
The warlike feates of both those knights 

to see. 
On th' other side in all mens open vew 
Duessa placed is, and on a tree 
Sausfoy his shield is hangd with bloody 

hew; 
Both those the lawrell girlonds to the vic- 
tor dew. 

VI. 

A shrilling trompett sownded from on 

hye, 
And unto battaill bad them selves ad- 

dresse : 
Their shining shieldes about their wrestes 

they tye, 
And burning blades about their heades 

doe blesse, 
The instruments of wrath and heavinesse. 
With greedy force each other doth assay le. 
And strike so fiercely, that they do "im- 

presse 



Deepe dinted furrowes in the battred 

mayle : 
The yron walles to ward their blowes are 

weak and fraile. 

VII, 

The Sarazin was stout and wondrous 

And heaped blowes like yron hammers 

great ; 
For after blood and vengeance he did 

long: 
The knight was fiers, and full of youthly 

heat, 
And doubled strokes, like dreaded thun- 
ders threat ; 
For all for praise and honour he did fight. 
Both stricken stryke, and beaten both doe 

beat. 
That from their shields forth flyeth firie 

light. 
And hewen helmets deepe shew marks of 

cithers might. 



./ 



VIII. 



.'"So th' one for wrong, the other strives 

for right. 
As when a Gryfon, seized of his pray, 
A Dragon fiers encountreth in his flight, 
Through widest ayre making his ydle 

way, 
That would his rightfull ravine rend 

away: 
With hideous horror both together smight. 
And souee so sore that they the heavens 

affray ; 
The wise Southsayer, seeing so sad sight, 
Th' amazed vulgar telles of warres and 

mortall fight. 



So th' one for wrong, the other strives 

for right, 
And each to deadly shame would drive 

his foe: 
The cruell Steele so greedily doth bight 
In tender flesh, that streames of blood 

down flow ; 
With which the armes, that earst so bright 

did show. 
Into a pure verraillion now are dyde. 
Great ruth in all the gazers harts did 

grow, 
Seeing the gored woundes to gape so wyde. 
That victory they dare not wish to either 

side. 

X. 

At last the Paynim chaunst to cast his 
eye. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



43 



His suddein eye flaming with wrathfull 
fyre, 

Upon his brothers shield, which hong 
thereby : 

Therewith redoubled was his raging yre, 

And said ; ' Ah ! wretched sonne of wof uU 
syre, 

Doest thou sit wayling by blacke Stygian 
lake, 

Whylest here thy shield is hangd for vic- 
tors hyre ? 

And, sluggish german, doest thy forces 
slake 

To after-send his foe, that him may over- 
take? 

XI. 

'Goe, caytive Elfe, him quickly over- 
take, 
And soone redeeme from his long-wan- 

dring woe : 
Goe, guiltie ghost, to him my message 

make, 
That I his shield have quit from dying foe.' 
Therewith upon his crest he stroke him so. 
That twise he reeled, readie twise to fall: 
End of the doubtfuU battaile deemed tho 
The lookers on ; and lowd to him gan call 
The false Duessa, ' Thine the shield, and 
I, and all ! ' 

XII. 

Soone as the Faerie heard his Ladie 

speake, 
Out of his swowning dreame he gan 

awake ; 
And quickning faith, that earst was woxen 

weake, 
The creeping deadly cold away did shake : 
Tho mov'd with wrath, and shame, and 

Ladies sake, 
Of all attonce he cast avengd to be. 
And with so' exceeding furie at him strake, 
That forced him to stoupe upon his knee : 
Had he not stouped so, he should have 

cloven bee. 

XIII. 

And to him said ; ' Goe now, proud Mis- 
creant, 

Thyselfe thy message do to german deare ; 

Alone he, wandring, thee too long doth 
want: 

Goe say, his foe thy shield with his doth 
beare.' 

Therewith his heavie hand he high gan 
reare, 

Him to have slaine; when lo! a darke- 
some clowd 

Upon him fell : he no where doth appeare, 

But vanisht is. The Elfe him calls alowd. 

But answer none receives; the darknes 
him does shrowd. 



In haste Duessa from her place arose. 
And to him running said; 'O! prowest 

knight, 
That ever Ladie to her love did chose, 
Let now abate the terrour of your might. 
And quench the flame of furious despight, 
And bloodie vengeance: lo! th' infernall 

powres, 
Covering your foe with cloud of deadly 

night, 
Have borne him hence to Plutoes balefull 

bowres: 
The conquest yours ; I yours; the shield, 

and glory yours.' 



Not all so satisfide, with greedy eye 
He sought all round about, his thristy 

blade 
To bathe in blood of faithlesse enimy ; 
Who all that while lay hid in secret shade. 
He standes amazed how he thence should 

fade: 
At last the trumpets Triumph sound on 

hie ; 
And running Heralds humble homage 

made. 
Greeting him goodly with new victorie, 
And to him brought the shield, the cause 

of enmitie. 



Wherewith he goeth to that soveraine 

Queen e ; 
And falling her before on lowly knee, 
To her makes present of his service scene : 
Which she accepts with thankes and 

goodly gree. 
Greatly advauncing his gay chevalree : 
So marcheth home, and by her takes the 

knight, 
W^hom all the people followe with great 

glee, 
Shouting, and clapping all their hands on 

hight, 
That all the ayre it fills, and flyes to 

heaven bright. 



Home is he brought, and layd in sump- 

tous bed, 
Where many skilfull leaches him abide 
To salve his hurts, that yet still freshly 

bled. 
In wine and oyle they wash his woundes 

wide. 
And softly gan embalme on everie side : 
And all the while most heavenly melody 
About the bed sweet musicke did divide, 



44 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I, 






Him to beguile of griefe and agony ; 
ud all the while Duessa wept full bitterly. 



XVIII. 

As when a wearie traveller, that strayes 
By muddy shore of broad seven-mouthed 

Nile, 
Unweetiug of the perillous wandring 

wayes, 
Doth meete a eruell craftie Crocodile, 
Which, in false griefe hyding his harme- 

full guile, 
Doth weepe full sore, and sheddeth tender 

teares ; 
The foolish man, that pities all this while 
His mournefull plight, is swallowed up 

unwares, 
Forgetfull of his owne that miudes an 

others cares. 



So wept Duessa untill eventyde, 
That shyning lampes in Joves high house 
^_^^^ were light ; 
Then forth she rose, ne lenger would 

abide. 
But comes unto the place where th' He- 
then knight. 
In slombring swownd, nigh voyd of vitall 

spright. 
Lay cover'd with inchaunted cloud all 

day: 
Whom when she found, as she him left in 

plight. 
To wayle his wofull case she would not 

stay, 
But to the Easterne coast of heaven makes 

speedy way : 



Where griesly Night, with visage deadly 
sad, 
That Phoebus chearefull face durst never 

vew, 
And in a foule blacke pitchy mantle clad. 
She findes forth comming from her dark- 
some mew. 
Where she all day did hide her hated hew. 
Before the dore her yron charet stood, 
Already harnessed for journey new, 
And cole blacke steedes yborne of hellish 

brood, 
That on their rusty bits did champ as they 
were wood. 

^ XXI. 

Who when she saw Duessa, sunny 

bright, 
Adornd with gold and jewels shining 

cleare. 
She greatly grew amazed at the sight, 



And th' unacquainted light began to 

feare. 
For never did such brightnes there ap- 

peare ; 
And would have backe retyred to her 

cave, 
Untill the witches speach she gan to 

heare. 
Saying; 'Yet, O thou dreaded Dame! I 

crave 
Abyde, till I have told the message which 

I have.' 

XXII. 

She stayd ; and foorth Duessa gan pro- 

ceede : 
' O ! thou most auncient Grandmother of 

all. 
More old then Jove, whom thou at first 

didst breede, 
Or that great house of Gods cfelestiall. 
Which wast begot in Daemogorgons hall. 
And sawst the secrets of the world un- 
made; 
Why suffredst thou thy Nephewes deare 

to fall, 
AVith Elfin sword most shamefully be- 

trade ? 
Lo ! where the stout Sansjoy doth sleepe 

in deadly shade. 



XXIII. 

before, I saw 



with bitter 



' And him 

eyes 
The bold Sansfoy shrinck underneath his 

speare ; 
And now the pray of fowles in field he 

lyes. 
Nor way Id of friends, nor layd on gron- 

ing beare. 
That whylome was to me too dearely 

deare. 
O ! what of gods then boots it to be borne, 
If old Aveugles sonnes so evill heare ? 
Or who shall not great Nightes children 

scorne, 
When two of three her Nephewes are so 

fowle forlorne? 

XXIV. 

* Up, then ! up, dreary Dame, of dark- 
nes Queene! 

Go, gather up the reliques of thy race ; 

Or else goe them avenge, and let be 
seene 

That dreaded Night in brightest day hath 
place. 

And can the children of fayi*e light de- 
face.' 

Her feeling speaches some compassion 
mov'd 



CANTO V.J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



45 



In hart, and chaunge in that great mo- 
thers face : 
Yet pitty in her hart was never prov'd 
Till then, for evermore she hated, never 
lov'd: 



And said, 'Deare daughter, rightly may 

I rew 
The fall of famous children borne of mee. 
And good successes which their foes 

ensew : 
But who can turne the stream of destinee, 
Or breake the chayne of strong neces- 

sitee. 
Which fast is tyde to Joves eternall seat ? 
The sonnes of Day he favoureth, I see, 
And by my ruines thinkes to make them 

great : 
To make one great by others losse is bad 

excheat. 

XXVI. 

'Yet shall they not escape so freely all, 
For some shall pay the price of others 

guilt; 
And he the man that made Sansfoy to 

fall, 
Shall with his owne blood price that he 

hath spilt. 
But what are thou, that telst of Nephews 

kilt?' 
* I, that do seeme not I, Duessa ame,' 
Quoth she, 'how ever now, in garments 

gilt 
And gorgeous gold arayd, I to thee 

came, 
Duessa I, the daughter of Deceipt and 

Shame.' 

XXVII. 

Then, bowing downe her aged backe, 

she kist 
The wicked witch, saying, ' In that fayre 

face 
The false resemblaunce of Deceipt, I wist, 
Did closely lurke ; yet so true-seeming 

grace 
It carried, that I scarse in darksome 

place 
Could it discerne, though I the mother 

bee 
Of falshood, an roote of Duessaes race. 
O welcome, chi.u! whom I have longd to 

see, 
And now have scene un wares. Lo ! now 

Igoe with thee.' 

XXVIII. 

Then to her yron wagon she betakes, 
And with her beares the fowle welfavourd 
witch. 



Through mirkesome aire her ready way 

she makes: 
Her twyfold Teme, of which two blacke 

as pitch, 
And two were browne, yet each to each 

• unlich. 
Did softly swim away, ne ever stamp 
Unlesse she chaunst their stubborne 

mouths to twitch ; 
Then, foming tarre, their bridles they 

would champ. 
And trampling the fine element would 

fiercely ramp. 

XXIX. 

So well they sped, that they be come at 

length 
Unto the place whereas the Paynim lay. 
Devoid of outward sence and native 

strength, 
Coverd with charmed cloud from vew of 

day, 
And sight of men, since his late luckelesse 

fray. 
His cruell wounds, with cruddy bloud 

congeald, 
They binden up so wisely as they may, 
And handle softly, till they can be heald : 
So lay him in her charett, close in night 

conceald. 



And, all the while she stood upon the 

ground, 
The wakeluU dogs did never cease to bay. 
As giving warning of th' unwonted 

sound , 
With which her yron wheeles did them 

affray, 
And her darke griesly looke them much 

dismay : 
The messenger of death, the ghasty owle, 
With drery shriekes did also her bewray ; 
And hungry wolves continually did howle 
At her abhorred face, so filthy and so 

fowle. 



Thence turning backe in silence softe 
^:: they stole, 
Ajjp brought the heavy corse with easy 

pace 
To yawning gulfe of deepe Avernus hole. 
By that same hole an entraunce, darke 

and bace, 
With smoake and sulphur hiding all the 

place, 
Descends to hell: there creature never 

past, 
That backe retourned without heavenly 

grace ; 



46 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



But dreadfull Furies, which their chaines 

have brast, 
And damned sprights sent fortli to make 

ill men aghast. 

XXXII. 

By that same way the direfull dames 

doe drive 
Their mournefull charett, fild with rusty 

blood, 
And downe to Plutoes house are come 

bilive : 
Which passing through, on every side 

them stood 
The trembling gliosts with sad amazed 

mood, 
Chattring their iron teeth, and staring 

wide 
With stony eies; and all the hellish 

brood 
Of feeuds infernall flockt on every side, 
To gaze on erthly wight that with the 

Night durst ride. 



They pas the bitter waves of Acheron, 
Where many soules sit wailing woefully, 
And come to fiery flood of Phlegeton, 
Whereas the damned ghosts in torments 

fry, 

And with sharp shrilling shriekes doe 
bootlesse cry. 

Cursing high Jove, the which them thither 
sent. 

The house of endlesse paine is built thereby. 

In which ten thousand sorts of punish- 
ment 

The cursed creatures doe eternally tor- 
ment. 

XXXIV. 

Before th^ threshold dreadfull Cerberus 
His three deformed heads did lay along, 
Curled with thousand adders venemous. 
And lilled forth his bloody flaming tong : 
At them he gan to reare his bristles 

strong, 
And felly gnarre, untill Dayes enemy 
Did him appease ; then downe his taile he 

liong, ^ 

And suffered them to passen quietly ;^ 
For she in hell and heaven had power 

equally. 

XXXV. 

There was Ixion turned on a wheele. 
For daring tempt the Queene of heaven 

to sin ; 
And Sisyphus and huge round stone did 

reele 
Against an hill,ne might from labour liu ; 



There thristy Tantalus hong by the chin; 
And Tityus fed a vultur on his maw; 
Typhoeus joynts were stretched on a gin ; 
Theseus condemned to endlesse slouth by 

law; 
And fifty sisters water in leke vessels 

draw. 

XXXVI. 

They all, beholding worldly wights in 

place. 
Leave off their worke, unmindfuUof their 

smart, 
To gaze on them ; who forth by them doe 

pace, 
Till they be come unto the furthest part; 
Where was a Cave y wrought by wondrous 

art. 
Deepe, darke, uneasy, dolefull, comfort- 

lesse. 
In which sad Aesculapius far apart 
Emprisond was in chaines remedilesse ; 
For that Hippolytus rent corse he did re- 

dresse. 

XXXVII. 

Hippolytus a jolly huntsman was. 
That wont in charett chace the foming 

bore : 
He all his Peeres in beauty did surpas, 
But Ladies love as losse of time forbore : 
His wanton stepdame loved him the more ; 
But, when she saw her offred sweets re- 

fusd, 
Her love she turnd to hate, and him before 
His father fierce of treason false accusd, 
And with her gealous termes his open 

eares abusd : 

XXXVIII. 

Who, all in rage, his Sea-god syre be- 
sought 

Some cursed vengeaunce on his sonne to 
cast. 

From surging gulf two Monsters streight 
were brought, 

With dread whereof his chacing steedes 
aghast 

Both charett swifte and huntsman over- 
cast : 

His goodly corps, on ragged cliffs yrent, 

Was quite dismembred, and his members 
chast 

Scattered on every mountaine as he went. 

That of Hippolytus was lef te no moniment. 



His cruell step-dame, seeing what was 
donne, 
Her wicked daies with wretched knife 
did end, 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



47 



In death avowing tli' innocence of her 

Sonne. 
Which hearing, his rash syre began to 

rend 
His heare, and hasty tong that did offend : 
Tho, gathering up the reliques of liis 

smart, 
By Dianes meanes, who was Hippolyts 

frend, 
Them brought to Aesculape that by his art 
Did heale them all againe, and joyned 

every part. 

XL. 

Such wondrous science in mans witt to 
rain 
When Jove avizd, that could the dead 

revive, 
And fates expired could renew again, 
Of endlesse life he might him not deprive, 
But unto hell did thrust him downe alive. 
With flashing thunderbolt y wounded sore : 
AVhere, long remaining, he did alwaies 

strive 
Himselfe with salves to health for to re- 
store. 
And slake the heavenly fire that raged 
evermore. 

XLI. 

There auncient Night arriving did alight 
From her nigh weary wayne, and in her 

armes 
To jEsculapius brought the wounded 

knight : 
Whome having softly disaraid of armes, 
Tho gan to him discover all his harmes, 
Beseeching him with prayer and with 

praise, 
If either salves, or oyles, or herbes, or 

charmes, 
A fordonne wight from dore of death 

mote raise, 
He would at her request prolong her 

nephews dales. 



' Ah Dame,' (quoth he) ' thou temptest 
me in vaine, 
To dare the thing which daily yet I rew, 
And the old cause of my continued paine 
With like attempt to like end to renew. 
Is not enough, that, thrust from heaven 

dew, 
Here endlesse penaunce for one fault I pay, 
But that redoubled crime with vengeaunce 

new 
Thou biddest me to eeke ? Can Night de- 
fray 
The wrath of thundring Jove, that rules 
both night and day? ' 



XLIII. 

'Not so,' (quoth she) 'but, sith that 

heavens king 
From hope of heaven hath thee excluded 

quight. 
Why f earest thou, that canst not hope for 

thing ; 
And f earest not that more thee hurten 

might, 
Now in the powre of everlasting Night ? 
Goeto then, O thou far renownied sonne 
Of great Apollo ! shew thy famous might 
In medichie, that els hath to thee wonne 
Great pains, and greater praise, both never 

to be donne.' 



Her words prevaild : And then the 

learned leach 
His cunning hand gan to his wounds to lay, 
And all things els the which his art did 

teach : 
Which having scene, from thence arose 

away 
The mother of dredd darknesse, and let 

stay 
Aveugles sonne there in the leaches cure ; 
And, backe retourning, took her wonted 

way 
To ronne her timely race, whilst Phoebus 

pure 
In westerne waves his weary wagon di& 

recure. 

XLV. 

The false Duessa, leaving noyous Night, 
Returud to stately pallace of DamePryde : 
Where when she came, she found the 

Faery knight 
Departed thence ; albee his woundes wyde 
Not throughly heald unready were to ryde. 
Good cause he had to hasten thence away ; 
For on a day his wary Dwarfe had spyde 
Where in a dungeon deepe huge uombers 

lay 
Of caytive wretched thralls, that wayled 

night and day : 



^ruefuU sight as could be seene with eie, 
Of whom he learned had in secret wise 
The hidden cause of their captivitie ; 
How mortgaging their lives to Covetise, 
Through wastfull Pride and wanton Ri- 

otise, 
They were by law of that proud Tyran- 

nesse, 
Provokt with Wrath and Envyes false 

surmise. 
Condemned to that Dongeon mercilesse, 



48 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



AVliere tliey should live in wo, and dye iu 
wretcheduesse. 



There was that great proud king of 

Babylon, 
That would compel! all nations to adore, 
And him as onely God to call upon ; 
Till, through celestiall doome thrown out 

of dore. 
Into an Oxe he was transformd of yore. 
There also was king Crcesus, that eu- 

haunst 
His hart too high through his great 

richesse store; 
And proud Antiochus, the which ad- 

vaunst 
His cursed hand gainst God, and on his 

altares daunst. 



And them long time before, great Nini- 

rod was. 
That first the world with sword and fire 

w^arrayd ; 
And after him old Ninus far did pas 
In princely pomp, of all the world obayd. 
There also was that mightie Monarch 

layd 
Low under all, yet above all in pride, 
That name of native syre did fowle up- 

brayd. 
And would as Ammons sonne be magni- 

fide. 
Till, scornd of God and man, a shamefuU 

death he dide. 

XLIX. 

All these together in one heape were 

throwne, 
Like carkases of beastes in butchers stall. 
And in another corner wide were strowne 
The Antique ruins of the Romanes fall : 
Great Romulus, the Grandsyre of them 

all; 
Proud Tarquin, and too lordly Lentulus 
Stout Scipio, and stubborne Hannibs " 
Ambitious Sylla, and sterne Marius 
High Caesar, great Pompey, and fierg^n- 

tonius. 



[IIUIUS 

eripr 



Amongst these mightie men were wemen 

mixt, 
Proud M'emen, vaine, forgetfull of their 

yoke : 
The bold Semiramis, whose sides trans- 

fixt 
With sonnes own blade her fowle re- 

proches spoke: 



Fayre Sthenoboea, that her selfe did 

choke 
With wilfuU chord for wanting of her 

will ; 
High minded Cleopatra, that with stroke 
Of Aspes sting lier selfe did stoutly 

kill; 
And thousands moe the like that did that 

donaeon fill. 



LI. 

Besides the endlesse routes of wretched 

thralles. 
Which thither were assembled day by day 
From all the world, after their wofull 

falles, 
Through wicked pride and wasted welthes 

decay. 
But most of all, which in that dongeon 

lay. 
Fell from high Princes courtes, or Ladies 

bowres. 
Where they iu ydle pomp, or wanton play, 
Consumed had their goods and thriftlesse 

howres. 
And lastly thrown themselves into these 

heavy stowres. 



LII. 

Whose case whenas the careful Dwarfe 

had tould, 
And made ensample of their mournfull 

sight 
Unto his Maister, he no lenger would 
There dwell in perill of like painefuU 

plight. 
But earely rose ; and, ere that dawning 

light 
Discovered had the w^orld to heaven wyde, 
He by a privy Posterne tooke his flight. 
That of no envious eyes he mote be 

spyde ; 
For, doubtlesse, death ensewd if any him 

descryde. 



Scarse could he footing find in that 

fowle way, 
For many corses, like a great Lay-stall, 
Of murdred men, which therein strowed 

lay 
Without remorse or decent funerall; 
Which al through that great Princesse 

pride did fall, 
And came to shamefull end. And them 

besyde, 
F'orth rydiiig underneath the castell wall, 
A Donghill of dead carcases he spyde ; 
The dreadful! spectacle of that sad house 

of Pryde. 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



49 



CANTO VI. 

From lawlesse lust by wondrous grace 

Fayre Una is releast : 
Whom salvage nation does adore, 

And learnes her wise beheast. 



^ As when a ship, that tiyes fayre under 

sayle, 
An hidden rocke escaped hath unawares, 
That lay in waite her wrack for to be- 
wail e, 
The Marriner yet halfe amazed stares 
At perill past, and yet in doubt ne dares 
To joy at his foolhappie oversight : 
So doubly is distrest twixt joy and cares 
The dreadlesse corage of this Elfin knight, 
Having escapt so sad ensamples in his 
sight. 

II. 
Yet sad he was, that his too hastie speed 
The fayre Duess' had forst him leave be- 
hind ; 
And yet more sad, that Una, his deare 

dreed, 
Her truth had staynd with treason so un- 
kind : 
Yet cryme in her could never creature find ; 
But for his love, and for her own selfe sake. 
She wandred had from one to other Ynd, 
Him for to seeke, ne ever would forsake, 
Till her unwares the tiers Sansloy did 
overtake : 

III. 

Who, after Archimagoes fowle defeat, 
Led her away into a forest wilde ; 
And, turning wrathful! fyre to lustful! heat, 
"With beastly sin thought her to have de- 

filde, 
And made the vassal! of his pleasures 

vilde. 
Yet first he cast by treatie, and by traynes 
Her to persuade that stubborne fort to 

yilde : 
For greater conquest of hard love he 

gaynes, 
That workes it to his will, then he that it 

constraines. 



With fawning wordes he courted her a 

while ; 
And, looking lovely and oft sighing sore, 
Her constant hart did tempt with diverse 

guile: 
But wordes, and lookes, and siglies she 

did abhore ; 



As rock of Diamond stedfast evermore. 

Yet for to feed his fyrie lustful! eye, 

He snatclit the vele tliat hong her face 

before : 
Then gan her beautie sliyne as brightest 

skye. 
And burnt his beastly hart t'efforce her 

chastitye. 

V. 

So when he saw his flatt'ring artes to 
fayle. 
And subtile engines bett from batteree; 
With greedy force began the fort assayle, 
Whereof he weend possessed soonetobee. 
And win rich spoile of ransackt chastitee. 
Ah heavens! that doe this hideous act 

behold, 
And heavenly virgin thus outraged see, 
How can ye vengeance just so long with- 
hold, 
And hurle not flashing flames upon that 
Paynira bold ? 



The pitteous mayden, careful!, com- 

fortlesse, 
Does tlirow out thrilling shriekes, and 

shrieking cryes. 
The last vaine helpe of wemens great 

distresse. 
And with loud plaintes importuneth the 

skyes. 
That molten starres doe drop like weeping 

eyes ; 
And Phoebus, flying so most shameful! 

sight. 
His blushing face in foggy cloud imply es. 
And hydes for shame. What witt of 

mortal wight 
Can now devise to quitt a thrall from 

such a plight ? 



Eternall providence, exceeding thought, 
Where none appeares can make her selfe 

a way. 
A wondrous way it for this Lady wrought, 
From Lyons clawes to pluck the gryped 

pray. 
Her shrill outcryes ?ind sluleks so loud 

did bray. 



50 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



That all the woodes and forestes did 

resownd : 
A troupe of Faunes aud Satyres far away 
Within the wood w^ere dauncing in a 

rownd, 
Whiles old Sylvanus slept in shady arber 

sownd : 

VIII. 

Who, when they heard that pitteous 

strained voice, 
In haste forsooke their rurall meriment, 
Aud ran towardes the far rebowuded 

noyce. 
To weet what wight so loudly did lament. 
Unto the place they come incontinent : 
Whom when the raging Sarazin espyde, 
A rude, mishapen, monstrous rablement, 
Whose like he never saw, he durst not 

byde, 
But got his ready steed, and fast away 

gan ryde. 

IX. 

The wyld woodgods, arrived in the 

place. 
There find the virgin, doolfull, desolate. 
With ruffled rayments, and fayre blub- 

bred face, 
As her outrageous foe had left her late ; 
And trembling yet through feare of 

former hate. 
All stand amazed at so uncouth sight. 
And gin to pittie her unhappie state : 
All stand astonied at her beautie bright. 
In their rude eyes unworthie of so wofull 

plight. 

/ 

She, more aniazd, in double dread doth 

dwell ; 
And every tender part for feare does 

shake. 
As when a greedy Wolfe, through honger 

fell, 
A seely Lamb far from the flock does 

take, 
Of whom he meanes his bloody feast to 

make, 
A Lyon spyes fast running towards him, 
The innocent pray in hast he does for- 



Which, quitt from death, yet quakes in 

every lim 
With chaunge of feare, to see the Lyon 

looke so grim. 

XI. 

Such fearefull fitt assaid her trembling 
\ hart, 
Ne word to speake, ne joynt to move, 
she had ; 



The salvage nation feele her secret smart. 
And read her sorrow in her count'nance 

sad ; 
Their frowning forheades, with rough 

homes yclad. 
And rustick horror, all asyde doe lay ; 
And, gently grenning, shew a semblance 

glad 
To comfort her; and, feare to put away, 
Their backward bent knees teach her 

humbly to obay. 



The doubtfull Damzell dare not yet 

committ 
Her single person to their barbarous 

truth ; 
But still twixt feare and hopeamazd 

does sitt, 
Late learnd what harme to hasty trust 

ensu'th. 
They, in compassion of her tender youth, 
And wonder of her beautie soverayne, 
Are wonne with pitty and unwonted ruth ; 
And, all prostrate upon the lowly playne. 
Doe kisse her feete, aud fawne on her 

with count'nance fayne. 

XIII. 

Their harts she ghesseth by their 

humble guise, 
And yieldes her to extremitie of time : 
So from the ground she fearelesse doth 

arise. 
And w^alketh forth without suspect of 

crime. 
They, all as glad as birdes of joyous 

Pryme, 
Thence lead her forth, about her dauncing 

round. 
Shouting, and singing all a shepheards 

ryme ; 
And with greene braunches strowing all 

the ground. 
Do worship her as Queene with olive gir- 

lond cround. 

XIV. 

And all the way their merry pipes they 

sound. 
That all the woods with doubled Eccho 

ring ; 
And with their horned feet doe weare the 

ground. 
Leaping like w^anton kids in pleasant 

Spring. 
So towards old Sylvanus they her bring; 
Who, with the noyse awaked, comqieth 

out 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



51 



To weet the cause, his weake steps gov- 
erning 

And aged limbs on cypresse stadle stout ; 

And with an yvie twyne his waste is girt 
about. 

XV. 

Far off he wonders what them makes 

so glad ; 
Or Bacchus merry fruit they did invent, 
Or Cybeles franticke rites have made 

them mad : 
They, drawing uigh, unto their God 

present 
That flowre of faythandbeautie excellent. 
The God himselfe, vewing that mirrhour 

rare, 
Stood long amazd, and burnt in his intent: 
His owne fayre Dryope now he thinkes 

not faire. 
And Pholoe fowle, when her to this he 

doth compaire. 



The woodborne people fall before her 

flat, 
And worship her as Goddesse of the wood ; 
And old wSylvanus selfe bethinkes not 

what 
To thinke of wight so fayre, but gazing 

stood 
In doubt to deeme her borne of earthly 

brood : 
Sometimes dame Venus selfe he seemes 

to see ; 
But Venus never had so sober mood : 
Sometimes Diana he her takes to be, 
But misseth bow and shaftes, and buskins 

to her knee. 



By vew of her he ginneth to revive 
His ancient love, and dearest Cyparisse ; 
And calles to mind hispourtraiture alive. 
How fayre he was, and yet not fayre to 

this; 
And how he slew with glauncing dart 

amisse 
A gentle Hynd, the which the lovely boy 
Did love as life, above all worldly blisse ; 
For grief e whereof the lad n'ould after 

joy. 

But pynd away in anguish and selfe-wild 
annoy. 

XVIII. 

The wooddy nymphes, faire Hama- 
dryades. 
Her to behold do thither runne apace ; 
And all the troupe of light-foot Naiades 
Flocke all about to see her lovely face ; 



But, when they vewed have her heavenly 

grace, 
They envy her in their malitious mind. 
And tly away for feare of fowle disgrace: 
But all the Satyres scorne their woody 

kind. 
And henceforth nothing faire but her on 

earth they find. 



Glad of such lucke, the luckelesse lucky 

mayd 
Did her content to please their feeble eyes. 
And long time with that salvage people 

stayd. 
To gather breath in many miseryes. 
During which time her gentle wit she 

plyes 
To teach them truth, which worshipt her 

in vaine, 
And made her th' Image of Idolatryes; 
But when their bootlesse zeale she did 

restrayne 
From her own worship, they her Asse 

would worship fayn. 



It fortuned, a noble warlike knight 
By just occasion to that for rest came 
To seeke his kindred, and the lignage 

right 
From whence he tooke his weldeserved 

name : 
He had in armes abroad wonne mucheXl 

fame, 
And fild far landes with glorie of his 

might : 
Plaine, faithfull, true, and enimy of 

shame, 
And ever lov'd to fight for Ladies right ; 
But in vaine glorious frayes he litle did 

delight. 

XXI. 

A Satyres sonne, yborne in forrest wyld, 
By straunge adventure as it did betyde. 
And there begotten of a Lady my Id, 
Fayre Thyamis, the daughter of Labryde ; 
That was in sacred bandes of wedlocke 

tyde 
To Therion, a loose unruly swayne. 
Who had more joy to raunge the forrest 

wyde. 
And chase the salvage beast with busie 

payne, 
Then serve his Ladies love, and waste in 

pleasures vayne. 

XXII. 

The forlorne mayd did with loves long- 
ing bui'ne, 



52 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



And could not lacke her lovers company ; 
But to the woods she goes, to serve her 

turne, 
And seeke her spouse that from her still 

does fly, 
And followes other game and venery : 
A Satyre chaunst her waudring lor to 

flnde ; 
And, kindling coles of lust in brutish eye. 
The loyall linkes of wedlocke did unbinde, 
And made her person thrall unto his 

beastly kind. 



So long in secret cabin there he held 
Her captive to his sensuall desyre, 
Till that with timely fruit her belly sweld, 
And bore a boy unto that salvage syre: 
Then home he suffred her for to retyre, 
For ransome leaving him the late-borne 

childe ; 
Whom, till to ryperyeares he gan aspyre. 
He nousled up in life and manners wilde, 
Emongst wild beastes and woods, from 

lawes of men exilde. 



For all he taught the tender ymp was 

but 
To banish cowardize and bastard feare : 
His trembling hand he would him force 

to put 
Upon the Lyon and the rugged Beare ; 
And from the she Beares teats her whelps 

to teare ; 
And eke wyld roring Buls he would him 

make 
To tame, and ryde their backes, not made 

to beare ; 
And the Robuckes in flight to overtake, 
That everie beast for feare of him did fly, 

and quake. 



Thereby so fearlesse and so fell he grew, 
That his own syre, and maister of his 

guise, 
Did often tremble at his horrid vew ; 
And oft, for dread of hurt, would him ad- 
vise 
The angry beastes not rashly to despise. 
Nor too much to provoke ; for he would 

learne 
The Lyon stoup to him in lowly wise, 
(A lesson hard) and make the Libbard 

Sterne 
Leave roaring, when in rage he for re- 
venge did earne. 



XXVI. 

And for to make his powre approved 

more, 
Wyld beastes in yron yokes he would 

compell ; 
The spotted Panther, and the tusked Bore, 
The Pardale swift, and the Tigre cruell. 
The Antelope, and Wolfe both fiers and 

fell; 
And them coustraine in equall teme to 

draw. 
Such joy he had their stubborne harts to 

quell. 
And sturdie courage tame with dreadfull 

aw, 
That his beheast they feared as a tyrans 

law. 

XXVII. 

His loving mother came upon a day 

Unto the woodes, to see her little sonne ; 

And chaunst unwares to meet him in the 
way. 

After his sportes and cruell pastime 
donne ; 

When after him a Lyonesse did runne. 

That roaring all with rage did lowd re- 
quere 

Her children deare, whom he aw^ay had 
w^onne : 

The Lyon whelpes she saw how he did 
beare, 

And lull in rugged armes withouten child- 
ish feare. 



The fearefull Dame all quaked at the 

sight. 
And turning backe gan fast to fly away ; 
Untill, with love revokt from vaine 

affright. 
She hardly yet perswaded was to stay, 
And then to him these womanish words 

gan say : 
' Ah Satyrane, my dearling and my joy, 
For love of me leave off this dreadfull 

play; 
To dally thus with death is no fit toy : 
Go, find some other play-fellowes, mine 

own sweet boy.' 



In these and like delightes of bloody 

game 
He trayned was, till ryper years he 

raught ; 
And there abode, whylst any beast of 

name 
Walkt in that forrest, whom he had not 

taught 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



S3 



To feare his force: aud then his courage 

haught 
Desyrd of forreiiie foemen to be knowne, 
And far abroad for straunge adventures 

sought ; 
In which his might was never over- 

throwne ; 
But through al Faery lou(| his famous 

worth was blown. 



Yet evermore it was his maner faire, 
After long labours and adventures spent, 
Unto those native woods for to repaire, 
To see his syre and ofspring auncient. 
And now he thither came for like intent ; 
"Where he unwares the fairest Una found, 
Straunge Lady in so straunge habiliment, 
Teaching the Satyres, which her sat 

around, 
Trew sacred lore, which from her sweet 

lips did redound. 



He wondred at her wisedome hevenly 

rare, 
Whose like in womens witt he never knew ; 
And, when her curteous deeds he did 

compare, 
Gan her admire, and her sad sorrowes rew, 
Blaming of Fortune, which such troubles 

threw. 
And joyd to make proofe of her cruelty 
On gentle Dame, so hurtlesse and so trew : 
Thenceforth he kept her goodly company, 
And learnd her discipline of faith and 

verity. 

XXXII. 

But she, all vowd unto the Redcrosse 
Knight, 
His wandring perill closely did lament, 
Ne in this new acquaintaunce could de- 
light; 
But her deare heart with anguish did tor- 
ment, 
And all her witt in secret counsels spent, 
How to escape. At last in privy wise 
To Satyrane she shewed her intent ; 
Who, glad to gain such favour, gan de- 
vise. 
How with that pensive Maid he best might 
thence arise. 

XXXIII. 

So on a day, when Satyres all were gone 
To do their service to Sylvanus old, 
The gentle virgin, left behinde alone. 
He led away with corage stout and bold. 
Too late it was to Satyres to be told. 
Or ever hope recover her againe : 



In value he -seekes that having cannot 

hold. 
So fast he carried her with carefull paine. 
That they the woods are past, and come 

now to the plaine. 



The better part now of the lingring day 
They traveild had, whenas they far espide 
A weary wight forwandring by the way ; 
And towards him they gan in haste to ride, 
To weete of newes that did abroad betide, 
Or tidings of her knight of the Redcrosse ; 
But he them spying gan to turne aside 
For feare, as seemd, or for some feigned 

losse : 
More greedy they of newes fast towards 

him do crosse. 



A silly man, in simple weeds forworne. 
And soiid with dust of the loug dried way ; 
His sandales were with toilsome travel! 

torne. 
And face all tand with scorching sunny 

lay, 
And he had traveild many a sommers day 
Through boyling sands of Arable and 

Ynde, 
And in his hand a Jacobs staffe, to stay 
His weary limbs upon ; and eke behind 
His scrip did hang, in which his needments 

he did bind. 

XXXVI. 

The knight, approching nigh, of him in- 

querd 
Tidings of warre, and of adventures new ; 
But warres, nor new adventures, none he 

herd. 
Then Una gan to aske, if ought he knew, 
Or heard abroad of that her champion 

trew. 
That in his armour bare a croslet red ? 
'Ay me! Deai-e dame,' (quoth he) 'well 

nuiy I rew 
To tell the sad sight which mine eies have 

red ; 
These eies did see that knight both living 

and eke ded.' 

XXXVII. 

That cruell word her tender hart so 

thrild, 
That suddeiu cold did ronne through every 

vaine. 
And stony horrour all her sences fild 
With dying titt, that downe she fell for 

paine. 



54 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



The knight her lightly reared up againe, 
And comforted with curteous kind reliefe : 
Then, woune from death, she bad him 

tellen plaine 
The further processe of her hidden griefe : 
The lesser pangs can beare who hath en- 

dur'd the chief. 

XXXVIII. 

Then gan the Pilgrim thus : * I chaunst 
this day, 
This fatall day that shall I ever rew, 
To see two knights, in travell on my way, 
(A sory sight) arraung'd in batteill new. 
Both breathing veugeaunce, both of wrath- 
full hew. 
My feareful flesh did tremble at their 

strife. 
To see their blades so greedily imbrew. 
That, dronke with blood, yet thristed 

after life : 
What more? the Redcrosse knight was 
slain with Paynim knife.' 

XXXIX. 

'Ah! dearest Lord,' (quoth she) 'how 

might that bee. 
And he the stoutest knight that ever 

wonne? ' 
*Ah! dearest dame,' (quoth hee) 'how 

might I see 
The thing that might not be, and yet was 

donne ? ' 
' Where is,' (said Satyrane) * that Paynims 

Sonne, 
That him of life, and us of joy, hath 

ref te ? ' 
* Not far away,' (quoth he) ' he hence doth 

wonne, 
Foreby a fountaine, where I late him 

lefte 
Washing his bloody wounds, that through 

the Steele were cleft.' 



Therewith the knight thence marched 

forth in hast. 
Whiles Una, with huge heavinesse op- 

prest, 
Could not for sorrow follow him so fast ; 
And soone he came, as he the place had 

ghest, 
Whereas that Pagan proud him selfe did 

rest 
In secret shadow by a fountaine side : 
Even he it was, that earst would have 

supprest 
Faire Una ; whom when Satyrane espide. 
With foule reprochfuU words he boldly 

him defide. 



And said ; ' Arise, thou cursed Mis- 

creaunt. 
That hast with knightlesse guile, and 

trecherous train, 
Faire knighthood fowly shamed, and do- 

est vaunt 
That good knight of the Redcrosse to have 

slain : 
Arise, and with like treason now maintain 
Thy guilty wrong, or els thee guilty yield.' 
The Sarazin, this hearing, rose amain. 
And, catching up in hast his three-square 

shield 
And shining helmet, soone him buckled to 

the field. 



And, drawing nigh him, said ; ' Ah! mis- 
born Elfe, 
In evill houre thy foes thee hither sent 
Anothers wrongs to wreak upon thy selfe : 
Yet ill thou blamest me for having blent 
My name with guile and traiterous intent : 
That Redcrosse knight, perdie, I never 

slew; 
But had he beene where earst his armes 

were lent, 
Th' enchaunter vaine his errour should 

not rew : 
But thou his errour shalt, I hope, now 
proven trew.' 

XLIII. 

Therewith they gan, both furious and 

fell, 
To thunder blowes, and fiersly to assaile 
Each other, bent his enimy to quell. 
That with their force they perst both plate 

and maile. 
And made wide furrowes in their fleshes 

fraile, 
That it would pitty any living eie. 
Large floods of blood adowne their sides 

did raile ; 
But floods of blood could not them satisfie : 
Both hongred after death ; both chose to 

win, or die. 

^ XLIV. 

So long they fight, and full revenge 
pursue, 

That, fainting, each themselves to 
breathen lett. 

And, ofte refreshed, battell of t renue. 

As when two Bores, with rancling malice 
mett, 

Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely 
f rett ; 

Til breathlesse both themselves aside re- 
tire, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



55 



Where foming wrath their cruell tuskes 

they whett, 
And trample th' earth, the whiles they 

may respire, 
Then backe to fight agaiue, new breathed 

and entire. 

"> XLV. 

So fiersly, when these knights had 

breathed once, 
They gan to fight retourne, increasing 

more 
Their puissant force, and cruell rage at- 

tonce, 
With heaped strokes more hugely then 

before ; 
That with their drery wounds, and bloody 

gore. 
They both, deformed, scarsely could bee 

known. 
By this, sad Una fraught with anguish 

sore. 
Led with their noise which through the 

aire was thrown, 
Arriv'd wher they in erth their fruitles 

blood had sown. 



Whom all so soone as that proud Sarazin 
Espide, he gan revive the memory 
Of his lend lusts, and late attempted sin. 
And lefte the doubtfull battell hastily, 
To catch her, newly off red to his eie ; 
But Satyrane, with strokes him turning, 
staid, 



And sternely bad him other businesse plie 
Then hunt the steps of pure unspotted 

Maid : 
Wherewith he al enrag'd these bitter 

speaches said. 



' O foolish faeries sonne ! what fury mad 
Hath thee inceust to hast thy dolefull 

fate? 
Were it not better I that Lady had 
Then that thou hadst repented it too 

late ? 
Most sencelesse man he, that himselfe 

doth hate. 
To love another : Lo! then, for thine ayd, 
Here take thy lovers token on thy pate.' 
So they to fight ; the whiles the royall 

Mayd 
Fledd farre away, of that proud Paynim 

sore afrayd. 

XLVIII. 

But that false Pilgrim, which that leas- 
ing told. 
Being in deed old Archimage, did stay 
In secret shadow all this to behold ; 
And much rejoyeed in their bloody fray: 
But, when he saw the Damsell passe 

away. 
He left his stond, and her pursewd apace, 
In hope to bring her to her last decay. 
But for to tell her lamentable cace. 
And eke this battels end, will need another 
place. 



9^ I 



CANTO VII. 

The Redcrosse knight is captive made 
By Gyaunt proud opprest : 

Prince Arthure meets with Una great- 
ly with those newes distrest. 



What man so wise, what earthly witt 

so ware, 
As to discry the crafty cunning traine. 
By which deceipt doth maske in visour 

faire, 
And cast her coulours, died deepe in 

graine. 
To seeme like truth, whose shape she well 

can faine. 
And fitting gestures to her purpose frame, 
The guiltlesse man with guile to enter- 

taine ? 
Great maistiesse of her art was that false 

Dame, 
The false Duessa, cloked with Fidessaes 

name. 



AVho when, returning from the drery 

Night, 
She fownd not in that perilous hous of 

Pryde, 
Where she had left the noble Redcrosse 

knight. 
Her hoped pray, she would no lenger 

byde, 
But forth she went to seeke him far and 

wide. 
Ere long she fownd, whereas he wearie 

sate 
To reste him selfe foreby a fountaine syde. 
Disarmed all of yron-coted Plate ; 
And by his side his steed the grassy 

forage ate. 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Hee feedes upon the cooling shade, and 

bayes 
His sweatie forehead in the breathing 

wynd, * 

Which through the trembling leaves full 

gently playes, 
Wherein the chearefull birds of sundry 

kynd 
Doe chaunt sweet musick to delight his 

mynd. 
The witch approching gan him fayrely 

greet, 
And with reproch of carelesnes unkynd 
Upbrayd, for leaving her in place unmeet, 
With fowle words tempring faire, soure 

gall with hony sweet. 



Unkindnesse past, they gan of solace 

treat, 
And bathe in pleasaunce of the joyous 

shade, 
Which shielded them against the boyliug 

heat, 
And with greene boughes decking a 

gloomy glade, 
About the fountaine like a girlond made ; 
Whose bubbling wave did ever freshly 

well, 
Ne ever would through fervent sommer 

fade: 
The sacred Nymph, which therein wont 

to dwell. 
Was out of Dianes favor, as it then befell. 



The cause was this: one day, when 
Phoebe fayre 

With all her band was following the chace. 

This nymph, quite tyr'd with heat of 
scorching ay re, 

Satt downe to rest in middest of the race : 

The goddesse wroth gan fowly her dis- 
grace, 

And badd the waters, which from her did 
flow, 

Be such as she her selfe was then in place. 

Thenceforth her waters wexed dull and 
slow, 

And all that drinke thereof do faint and 
feeble grow. 

VI. 

Hereof this gentle knight unweeting 

was ; 
And lying downe upon the sandie graile, 
Dronke of tlie streame, as cleare as 

christall glas : 
Eftsoones his manly forces gan to fayle. 



And might ie strong was turnd to feeble 

frayle. 
His chaunged powres at first them selves 

not felt ; 
Till crudled cold his corage gan assayle. 
And chearef ul blood in fayntnes chill did 

melt. 
Which like a fever fit through all his 

bodie swelt. 



Yet goodly court he made still to his 

Dame, 
Pourd out in loosnesse on the grassy 

grownd. 
Both carelesse of his health, and of his 

fame ; 
Till at the last he heard a dreadf nil sownd. 
Which through the wood loud bellowing 

did rebownd, 
That all the earth for terror seemd to 

And trees did tremble. Th' Elfe, there- 
with astownd. 
Upstarted lightly from his looser make. 
And his unready weapons gan in hand to 
take. 



But ere he could his armour on him 

dight. 
Or gett his shield, his monstrous enimy 
With sturdie steps came stalking in his 

sight, 
An hideous Geaunt, horrible and bye. 
That with his tallnesse seemd to threat 

the skye ; 
The ground eke groned under him for 

dreed : 
His living like saw never living eye, 
Ne durst behold : his stature did exceed 
The hight of three the tallest sonnes of 

mortall seed. 



The greatest Earth his uncouth mother 

was. 
And blustring .Eolus his boasted syre ; 
Who with his lireath, which through the 

world doth pas, 
Her hollow womb did secretly inspyre, 
And fild her hidden caves with stormie 

yre. 
That she conceiv'd ; and trebling the dew 

time 
In which the wombes of wemen doe 

expyre, 
Brought forth this monstrous masse of 

earthly slyme, 
Puft up with emptie wynd, and fild with 

sinfull cryme. 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEKN 



^7 



So gi-owen great, through arrogant 

delight 
Of th' high descent whereof he was yboriie, 
And througli presumption of his match- 

lesse might, 
All other powres and knighthood he did 

scorne. 
Such now he marcheth to this man for- 

lorne, 
And left to losse ; his stalking steps are 

stayde 
Upon a snaggy Oke, which he had torne 
Out of his mothers bowelles, and it made 
His mortall mace, whe'vwith his foemen 

he dismayde. 



That, when the knight he spyde, he gan 
ad van nee 
With huge force and insupportable mayne, 
And towardes him with dreadfull fury 

praunce ; 
Who haplesse, and eke hopelesse, all in 

vaine 
Did to him pace sad battaile to darrayne, 
Disarmd, disgraste, and inwardly dis- 
mayde ; 
And eke so faint in every joynt and vayne. 
Through that fraile fountain which him 

feeble made, 
That scarsely could he weeld his bootlesse 
single blade. 

XII. 

The Geaunt strooke so maynly merci- 

lesse, 
That could have overthrowne a stony 

towre ; 
And, were not hevenly grace that did him 

blesse. 
He had beene pouldred all as thin as 

tlowre : 
But he was wary of that deadly stowre, 
And lightly lept from underneath the 

blow : 
Yet so exceeding was the villeins powre. 
That with the winde it did him over- 
throw, 
And all his sences stound that still he lay 

full low. 



XIII. 

divelish 



As when that 

wrought 
In deepest Hell, and 

skill, 
With windy Nitre and 

fraught, 
And ramd with bollet rownd, ordaind to 

kill, 



yron Engin, 
framd by Furies 
quick Sulphur 



Conceiveti. ly it • i-.- , , "i) 

With thundriiit; noysc, ; 

doth choLe, 
That none can breath, nor seo, i,*., \\r.. . , 

at will, 
Through smouldry cloud of duskish 

stincking smoke ; 
That th' only breath him daunts, who 

hath escapt the stroke. 

XIV. 

So daunted when the Geaunt saw vh<: 

knight. 
His heavie hand he heaved up on hye, 
And him to dust thought to have battred 

quight, 
Untill Duessa loud to him gan crye, 
'O great Orgoglio! greatest under skye, 
O! hold thy mortall hand for liadies 

sake; 
Hold for my sake, and doe him not to 

dye, 
But vanquisht thine eternall bondslave 

make. 
And me, thy worthy meed, unto thy Le- 

mau take.' 

XV. 

He hearkned, and did stay from fur- 
ther harmes. 
To gayne so goodly guerdon as she spake: 
So willingly she came into his armes. 
Who her as willingly to grace did take, 
And was possessed of his newfound make. 
Then up he tooke the slombred sencelesse 

corse, 
And, ere he could out of his swowne 

awake, 
Him to his castle brought with hastie 

forse. 
And in a Dongeon deepe him threw with- 
out remorse. 

XVI. 

From that day forth Duessa was his 

deare, 
And highly honourd in his haughtie 

eye: 
He gave her gold and purple pall to 

weare, 
And triple crowne set on her head full 

hye. 
And her endowd with royall majestye. 
Then, for to make her dreaded more of 

men, 
And peoples hartes with awfull terror 

tye, 

A monstrous beast ybredd in filthy fen 
He chose, which he had kept long time in 
darksom den. 



58 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I, 



Such one it -vvas, as that renowmed 

Snake 
Which gresot Alcides in Stremona slew, 
Long fosvred in the filth of Lerna lake : 
Whose many heades, out budding ever 

new, 
Did breed him endlesse labor to subdew. 
But this same Monster much more ugly 

was, 
For seven great heads out of his body 

grew. 
An yron brest, and back of scaly bras, 
And all embrewd in blood his eyes did 

shine as glas. 

XVIII. 

His tayle was stretched out in wondrous 

length. 
That to the hous of hevenly gods it raught : 
And with extorted powre, and borrow'd 

strength. 
The everburning lamps from thence it 

braught, 
And prowdly threw to ground, as things 

of naught ; 
And underneath his filthy feet did tread 
The sacred thiuges, and holy heastes fore- 
taught. 
Upon this dreadfull Beast with sevenfold 

head 
He sett the false Duessa, for more aw and 

dread. 



The wo full Dwarfe, which saw his mais- 

ters fall 
Whiles he had keeping of his grasing 

steed, 
And valiant knight become a caytive 

thrall. 
When all was past, tooke up his forlorne 

weed ; 
His mightie Armour, missing most at 

need ; 
His silver shield, now idle, maisterlesse ; 
His poynant speare that many made to 

bleed. 
The rueful monimeuts of heavinesse ; 
And with them all departes to tell his 

great distresse. 



He had not travaild long, when on the 

way 
He wofuU Lady, wofuU Una, met, 
Fast flying from that Paynims greedy 

pray, 
Whilest Satyrane him from pursuit did 

let: 



Who when her eyes she on the Dwarf had 
set, 

And saw the signes that deadly tydinges 
spake. 

She fell to ground for sorrowful! re- 
gret, 

And lively breath her sad brest did for- 
sake ; 

Yet might her pitteous hart be scene to 
pant and quake. 

XXI. 

The messenger of so unhappie newes 
Would faine have dyde: dead was his 

hart within, 
Yet outwardly some little comfort shewes. 
At last, recovering hart, he does begin 
To rubb her temples, and to chaufe her 

chin. 
And everie tender part does tosse and 

turne : 
So hardly he the flitted life does win 
Unto her native prison to retourne ; 
Then gins her grieved ghost thus to 

lament and mourne : 



*Ye dreary instruments of dolefull 

sight, 
That doe this deadly spectacle behold, 
Why doe ye lenger feed on loathed light. 
Or liking find to gaze on earthly mould, 
Sith cruell fates the carefull threds un- 

fould, 
The which my life and love together 

tyde? 
Now let the stony dart of sencelesse 

cold 
Perce to my hart, and pas through everie 

side. 
And let eternall night so sad sight fro me 

hyde. 

xxin. 
' O lightsome day! tlft lampe of highest 

Jove, 
First made by him mens wandring wayes 

toguyde, 
AVhen darknesse he in deepest dongeon 

drove. 
Henceforth thy hated face for ever hyde. 
And shut up heavens windowes shyiiing 

wyde ; 
For earthly sight can nought but sorrow 

breed, 
And late repentance which shall long 

abyde : 
Mine eyes no more on vanitie shall feed, 
But seeled up with death shall have their 

deadly meed.' 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



59 



Then downe againe she fell unto the 

ground, 
But he her quickly reared up agaiue : 
Thrise did she sinke adowne in deadly 

swownd, 
And thrise he her reviv'd with busie 

paine. 
At last when life recover'd had the raine, 
And over-wrestled his strong enimy, 
AVith foltring toug, and trembling everie 

vaiue, 
* Tell on,' (quoth she) ' the wofull Tragedy, 
The which these reliques sad present unto 

mine eye. 

XXV. 

'Tempestuous fortune hath spent all 

her spight, 
And thrilling sorrow throwne his utmost 

dart : 
Thy sad tong cannot tell more heavy 

plight 
Then that I feele, and harbour in mine 

hart: 
AVho hath endur'd the whole can beare 

ech part. 
If death it be, it is not the first wound 
That launched hath my brest with bleed- 
ing smart. 
Begin, and end the bitter balefull stound ; 
If lesse then that I feare, more favour I 

have found.' 



Then gan the Dwarfe the whole dis- 
course declare ; 
The subtile traines of Archimago old ; 
The wanton loves of false Fidessa fayre, 
Bought with the blood of vanquisht Pay- 

nim bold ; 
The wretched payre transformd to treen 

mould ; 
The house of Pryde, and perilles round 

about ; 
The combat which he with Sansjoy did 

hould ; 
The lucklesse conflict with the Gyaunt 

stout, 
Wherein captiv'd, of life or death he stood 

in doubt. 

xxvii. 

She heard with patience all unto the 
end, 

And strove to maister sorrowfnll assay, 

Which greater grew the more she did con- 
tend, 

And almost rent her tender hart in tway ; 

And love fresh coles unto her fire did lay; 

For greater love, the greater is the losse. 



Was never Lady loved dearer day 

Then she did kve the knight of the Red- 

crosse, 
For whose dears sake so many troubles 

her did tosse. 



At last when fervent sorrow slaked was. 
She up arose, .esolviug him to find 
Alive or dead ; and forward forth doth 

pas, 
All as the Dwarfe the way to her assynd ; 
And evermore, in constant carefull mind, 
She fedd her wound with fresh renewed 

bale. 
Long tost with stormes, and bet with bit- 
ter wind. 
High over hills, and lowe adowne the 

dale, _ 

She wandred many a wood, and measurd 
many a vale. 



At last she chaunced by good hap to 

meet 
A goodly knight, faire marching by the 

way, 
Together with his Squyre, arayed meet: 
His glitterand armour sinned far away, 
Like glauncing light of Phoebus brightest 

ray; 
From top to toe no place appeared bare. 
That deadly dint of Steele endanger may. 
Athwart his brest a bauldrick brave he 

ware, 
That shind, like twinkling stars, with 

stones most pretious rare. 

XXX. 

And in the midst thereof one pretious 

stone 
Of wondrous worth, and eke of wondrous 

mights, 
Shapt like a Ladies head, exceeding 

shone, 
Like Hesperus emongst the lesser lights, 
And strove for to amaze the weaker 

sights : 
Thereby his mortall blade full comely hong 
In yvoi-y sheath, ycarv'd with curious 

slights. 
Whose hilts were burnisht gold, and 

handle strong 
Of mother perle;"aiid buckled with a 

golden tong. 

XXXI. 

His haughtie Helmet, horrid all with 

gold. 



6o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[BOOK I. 



Both glorious brightues.se and great ter- 

rour bredd : 
For all the crest a Dragou did enfold 
"With greedie pawes, and over all did 

spredd 
His golden winges : his dref.dfull hideous 

hedd, 
Close couched on the bever, seemd to 

throw 
From flaming mouth bright sparckles 

fiery redd, 
That suddeine horrour to faint hartes did 

show ; 
And scaly tayle was stretcht adowne his 

back full low. 



Upon the top of all his loftie crest, 
A bounch of heares discolourd diversly, 
With sprincled pearle and gold full richly 

drest, 
Did shake, and seemd to daunce for jollity. 
Like to an almond tree ymounted hye 
On top of greene Selinis all alone, 
With blossoms brave bedecked daintily ; 
Whose tender locks do tremble every one 
At everie little breath that under heaven 

is blowne. 

XXXIII. 

His warlike shield all closely cover'd 
was, 
Ne might of mortall eye be ever scene ; 
Not made of Steele, nor of enduring bras, 
Such earthly mettals soon consumed 

beene. 
But all of Diamond perfect pure and 

cleene 
It framed was, one massy entire mould. 
He wen out of Adamant rocke with engines 

keene. 
That point of speare it never percen could, 
Ne dint of direfull sword divide the sub- 
stance would. 



The same to wight he never wont dis- 
close. 
But whenas monsters huge he would dis- 
may. 
Or daunt unequall armies of his foes, 
Or when the flying heavens he would 

affray ; 
For so exceeding shone his glistring ray. 
That Phoebus golden face it did attaint. 
As when a cloud his beanies doth over-lay ; 
And silver Cynthia wexed pale and faynt. 
As when her face is staynd with magicke 
arts constraint. 



XXXV. 

No magicke arts hereof had any might. 

Nor bloody wordes of bold Enchaunters 
call; 

But all that was not such as seemd in 
sight 

Before that shield did fade, and suddeine 
fall : 

And when him list the raskall routes ap- 
pall, 

Men into stones therewith he could trans- 
mew, 

And stones to dust, and dust to nought at 
all; 

And, when him list the prouder lookes 
subdew. 

He would them gazing blind, or turne to 
other hew. 

XXXVI. 

Ne let it seeme that credence this ex- 

ceedes ; 
For he that made the same was knowne 

right well 
To have done much more admirable 

deedes. 
It Merlin was, which whylome did excell 
All living wightes in might of magicke 

spell : 
Both shield and sword, and armour all he 

wrought 
For this young Prince, when first to armes 

he fell ; 
But, when he dyde, the Faery Queene it 

brought 
To Faerie loud, where yet it may be scene, 

if sought: 

XXXVII. 

Agentle youth, his dearely loved Squire, 
His speare of heben wood behind him bare, 
Whose harmeful head, thrise heated in the 

fire, 
Had riven many a brest with pikehead 

square : 
A goodly person, and could menage faire 
His stubborne steed with curbed canon 

bitt. 
Who under him did trample as the aire. 
And chauft that any on his backe should 

sitt: 
The yron rowels into frothy fome he bitt. 



Whenas this knight nigh to the Lady 

drew. 
With lovely court he gan her entertaine ; 
But, when he heard her answers loth, he 

knew 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE OUEENE. 



6i 



Some secret sorrow did her heart dis- 

traiue ; 
Which to allay, and calme her storming 

paine, 
Faire feeling words he wisely gan display, 
And for her humor fitting purpose faine, 
To tempt the cause it selfe for to be- 
wray. 
Wherewith enmovd, these bleeding words 
she gan to say. 

XXXIX. 

' What worlds delight, or joy of living 

speach. 
Can hart, so plungd in sea of sorrowes 

deep, 
And heaped with so huge misfortunes, 

reach ? 
The carefull cold beginueth for to creep. 
And in my heart his yron arrow steep, 
Soone as I thinke upon my bitter bale. 
Such helplesse harnies yts better hidden 

keep. 
Then rip up griefe where it may not 

availe : 
My last left comfort is my woes to weepe 

and waile.' 

XL. 

' Ah Lady deare,' quoth then the gentle 

knight, 
' Well may I ween your griefe is wondrous 

great ; 
For wondrous great griefe groneth in my 

spright. 
Whiles thus I heare you of your sorrowes 

treat. 
But, woefull Lady, let me you intrete. 
For to unfold the anguish of your hart : 
Mishaps are maistred by advice discrete, 
And counsell mitigates the greatest smart : 
Found never help who never would his 

hurts impart.' 



' O, but,' (quoth she) ' great griefe will 

not be tould, 
And can more easily be thought then 

said.' 
' Right so,' (quoth he) ' but he that never 

would 
Could never: will to might gives greatest 

aid.' 
'But griefe,' (quoth she) 'does greater 

grow displaid, 
If then it find not helpe, and breeds des- 

paire.' 
'Despaire breeds not,' (quoth he) 'where 

faith is staid.' 
* No faith so fast,' (quoth slie) 'but flesh 

does paire.' 



Flesh may empaire,' (quoth he) 'but 
reason can repaire.' 



His goodly reason, and well-guided 

speach, 
So deepe did settle in her gracious thought, 
Tliat her perswaded to disclose the breach 
Which love and fortune in her heart had 

wrought ; 
And said ; ' Faire Sir, I hope good hap 

hath brought 
You to inquere the secrets of my griefe, 
Or that your wisedome will direct my 

thought, 
Or that your prowesse can me yield re- 

liefe : 
Then, heare the story sad, which I shall 

tell you briefe. 

XLIII. 

' The forlorne Maiden, whom your eies 
have seene 
The laughing stocke of fortunes mockeries. 
Am th' onely daughter of a King and 

Queene, 
Whose parents deare, whiles equal des- 
tinies 
Did ronne about, and their felicities 
The favourable heavens did not envy. 
Did spred their rule through all the terri- 
tories, 
Which Phison and Euphrates floweth by, 
And Gehons golden waves doe wash con- 
tinually : 

XLIV. 

' Till that their cruell cursed enemy. 
An huge great Dragon, horrible in sight. 
Bred in the loathly lakes of Tartary, 
With murdrous ravine, and devouring 

might. 
Their kingdome spoild, and countrey 

wasted quight: 
Themselves, for feare into his iawes to 

fall. 
He forst to castle strong to take their 

flight ; 
Where, fast embard in mighty brasen 

wall. 
He has them now fowr years besiegd to 

make them thrall. 

XLV. 

' Full many knights, adventurous and 

stout, 
Have enterpriz'd that Monster to subdew : 
From every coast that heaven walks about 
Have thither come the noble Martial crew, 
That famous harde atchievements still 

pursew ; 



62 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Yet never any could that girlond win, 
Bat all still shronke, and still he greater 

grew: 
All they, for want of faith, or guilt of sin, 
The pitteous pray of his tiers cruelty have 

bin. 

XLVI. 

' At last, yled with far reported praise, 
Which flying fame throughout the world 

had spred. 
Of doughty knights, whom Faery land did 

raise, 
That noble order hight of maidenhed, 
Forthwith to court of Gloriane I sped, 
Of Gloriane, great Queene of glory bright, 
Whose kingdomes seat Cleopolis is red ; 
There to obtaine some such redoubted 

knight. 
That Parents deare from tyrants powre 

deliver might. 

XLVII. 

* Yt was my chaunce (my chaunce was 

faire and good) 
There for to find a fresh unproved knight ; 
Whose manly hands imbrewd in guilty 

blood 
Had never beene, ne ever by his might 
Had throwne to ground the unregarded 

right : 
Yet of his prowesse proofe he since hath 

made 
(I witnes am) in many a cruell fight ; 
The groning ghosts of many one dismaide 
Have felt the bitter dint of his avenging 
blade. 

XLVIII. 

' And ye, the forlorne reliques of his 

powre. 
His biting sword, and his devouring 

speare, 
Which have endured many a dreadfuU 

stowre, 
Can speake his prowesse that did earst you 

beare, 
And well could rule ; now he hath left you 

heare 
To be the record of his ruefuU losse. 
And of my dolefull disaventurous deare. 
O! heavie record of the good Redcrosse, 
Where have yee left your lord that could 

so well you tosse ? 



* Well hoped I, and faire beginnings had, 
That he my captive languor t-hould re- 

deeme : 
Till, all unweeting, an Enchaunter bad 



His sence abusd, and made him to mis- 

deeme 
My loyalty, not such as it did seeme. 
That rather death desire then such de- 

spight. 
Be judge, ye heavens, that all things right 

esteeme. 
How I him lov'd, and love with all my 

might. 
So thought I eke of him, and think I 

thought aright. 



* Thenceforth me desolate he quite for- 

sooke, 
To wander where wilde fortune would me 

lead, 
And other bywaies he himselfe betooke, 
Where never foote of living wight did 

tread , 
That brought not backe the balef ull body 

dead : 
In which him chaunced false Duessa 

meete, 
Mine onely foe, mine onely deadly dread ; 
Who with her witchcraft, and misseeming 

sweete, 
Inveigled him to follow her desires un- 

meete. 

LI. 

' At last, by subtile sleights she him be- 

traid 
Unto his foe, a Gyaunt huge and tall; 
Who him disarmed, dissolute, dismaid, 
Un wares surprised, and with mighty mall 
The monster mercilesse him made to fall, 
Whose fall did never foe before behold : 
And now in darkesome dungeon, wretched 

thrall, 
Remedilesse for aie he doth him hold. 
This is my cause of grief e, more great then 

may be told.' 



Ere she had ended all she gan to faint: 
But he her comforted, and faire bespake: 
' Certes, Madame, ye have great cause of 

plaint; 
That stoutest heart, I weene, could cause 

to quake : 
But be of cheare, and comfort to you take ; 
For till I have acquitt your captive knight. 
Assure your selfe I will you not for- 
sake.' 
His chearefull words reviv'd her cheare- 

lesse sp right, 
So forth they went, the Dwarf e them guid- 
ing ever right. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



63 



CANTO VIII. 

Faire virgin, to redeeme her deare, 

Brings Arthure to the fight : 
Who slayes the Gyaunt, wounds the beast, 

And strips Duessa quight. 



Ay me! how many perils doe enfold 
The righteous man, to make him daily fall, 
Were not that heavenly grace doth him 

uphold, 
And stedfast truth acquite him out of all. 
Her love is firme, her care contiuuall, 
So oft as he, through his owu foolish pride 
Or weaknes, is to sinful! bauds made 

thrall : 
Els should this Redcrosse knight in bands 

have dyde, 
For vi^hose deliverance she this Prince doth 

thither guyd. 



They sadly traveild thus, untill they 

came 
Nigh to a castle builded strong and bye : 
Then cryde the Dwarfe, 'Lo! yonder is 

the same, 
In which my Lord, my liege, doth luck- 

lesse ly 
Thrall to that Gyaunts hatef ull tyranny : 
Therefore, deare Sir, your mightie powres 

assay.' 
The noble knight alighted by and by 
From loftie steed, and badd the Ladie stay, 
To see what end of light should him befall 

that day. 

III. 

So with his Squire, th' admirer of his 

might. 
He marched forth towardes that castle 

wall. 
Whose gates he fownd fast shutt, ne living 

wight 
To warde the same, nor answere commers 

call. 
Then tooke that Squire an home of bugle 

small. 
Which hong adowne his side in twisted 

gold 
And tasselles gay. Wyde wonders over all 
Of that same homes great virtues weren 

told. 
Which had approved bene in uses mani- 
fold. 

IV. 

Was never wight that heard that shrill- 
ing sownd, 



But trembling feare did feel in every 

vaine : 
Three miles it might be easy heard arownd. 
And Ecchoes three aunswer'd it selfe 

againe : 
No false enchaimtment, nor deceiptfull 

traine. 
Might once abide the terror of that blast. 
But presently was void and wholly vaine : 
No gate so strong, no locke so firme and 

fast, 
But with that percing noise flew open 

quite, or brast. 



The same before the Geaunts gate he 

blew. 
That all the castle quaked from the 

growud. 
And every dore of freewill open flew. 
The Gyaunt selfe, dismaied with that 

sownd. 
Where he with his Duessa dalliaunce 

fownd, 
In hast came rushing forth from inner 

bowre, 
With staring countenance sterne, as one 

astownd. 
And staggering steps, to weet what sud- 

dein stowre 
Had wrought that horror strange, and 

dar'd his dreaded powre. 



And after him the proud Duessa came, 
High mounted on her many headed beast. 
And every head with fyrie tongue did 

flame, 
And every head M'as crowned on his 

creast, 
And bloody mouthed with late cruel! 

feast. 
That when the knight beheld, his mightie 

shild 
Upon his manly arme he soone addrest. 
And at him fiersly flew, with corage fild. 
And eger greedinesse through every mem- 
ber tlirild. 



Therewitli the Gyant buckled him to 
fight. 



64" 



^^ 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Inflamd with scoruefull wrath and high 
disdaiiie, 

And liftinoj up his dreadfull chib on hight, 

All armd with ragged suubbes and knottie 
graine, 

Him thought at first encounter to have 
slaine. 

But wise and wary was that noble Pare ; 

And, lightly leaping from so monstrous 
maine, 

Did fayre avoide the violence him uere : 

It booted nought to thinke such thunder- 
bolts to beare. 

VIII. 

Ne shame he thought to shonne so hide- 
ous might: 
The ydle stroke, enforcing furious way, 
Missing the marke of his misaymed sight. 
Did fall to ground, and with his heavy 

sway 
So deepely dinted in the driven clay, 
That three yardes deepe a furrow up did 

throw. 
The sad earth , wounded with so sore assay. 
Did grone full grievous underneath the 

blow, 
And trembling with strange feare did like 
an erthquake show. 



As when almightie Jove, in wrathfull 

mood, 
To wreake the guilt of mortall sins is 

bent, 
Hurles forth his thundring dart with 

deadly food 
Enrold in flames, and smouldring dreri- 

ment, 
Through riven cloudes and molten firma- 
ment; 
The fiers threeforked engin, making 

way. 
Both loftie towres and highest trees hath 

rent. 
And all that might his angry passage 

stay; 
And, shooting in the earth, castes up a 

mount of clay. 



His boystrous club, so buried in the 

grownd. 
He could not rearen up againe so light, 
But that the Knight him at advantage 

fownd ; 
And, whiles he strove his combred clubbe 

to quight 
Out of the earth, with blade all burning 

bright 



He smott off his left arme, which like a 

block 
Did fall to ground, depriv'd of native 

might: 
Large streames of blood out of the 

truncked stock 
Forth gushed, like fresh water streams 

from riven rocke. 



Dismayed with so desperate deadly 

wound. 
And eke impatient of unwonted payne, 
He loudly brayd with beastly yelling 

sownd. 
That all the fieldes rebellowed againe. 
As great a noyse, as when in Cymbrian 

plaine 
An heard of Bulles, whom kindly rage 

doth sting, 
Doe for the milky mothers want com- 

plaine, 
And fill the fieldes with troublous bellow- 
ing: 
The neighbor woods arownd with hollow 

murmur ring. 



That when his deare Duessa heard, and 

saw 
The evil stownd that daungerd her estate, 
Unto his aide she hastily did draw 
Her dreadfull beast; who, swolne with 

blood of late, 
Came ramping forth with proud presump- 

teous gate. 
And threatned all his heades like flaming 

brandes. 
But him the Squire made quickly to re- 

trate, 
Encountring fiers with single sword in 

hand ; 
And twixt him and his Lord did like a 

bulwarks stand. 



The proud Duessa, full of wrathfull 

spight. 
And fiers disdaine to be affronted so, 
Enforst her purple Jbeast with all her 

might. 
That stop out of the way to overthroe, 
Scorning the let of so unequall foe : 
But nathemore would that corageous 

swayne 
To her yeeld passage gainst his Lord to goe. 
But with outrageous strokes did him re- 

straine, 
And with his body bard the way atwixt 

them twaine. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



65 



Then tooke the angrie witch her golden 

cup, 
Which still she bore, replete with magick 

artes ; 
Death and despeyre did many thereof sup. 
And secret poyson through their inner 

partes, 
Th' eternall bale of heavie w^ounded harts : 
Which, after charmes and some enchaunt- 

ments said, 
She lightly sprinkled on his weaker partes : 
Therewith his sturdie corage soon was 

quayd. 
And all his sences were with suddein dread 

dismayd. 

XV. 

So downe he fell before the cruell beast, 

Who ou his neck his bloody clawes did 
seize, 

That life uigh crusht out of his panting 
brest : 

No powre he had to stirre, nor will to rize. 

That when the carefull knight gan well 
avise. 

He lightly left the foe with whom he 
fought, 

And to the beast gan turne his enterprise ; 

For wondrous anguish in his hart it 
wrought. 

To see his loved Squyre into such thral- 
dom brought : 

XVI. 

And, high advauncing his blood-thirstie 

blade. 
Stroke one of those deformed heades so 

sore, 
That of his puissaunce proud ensample 

made: 
His monstrous scalpe downe to his teeth 

it tore, 
And that misformed shape misshaped 

more. 
A sea of blood gusht from the gaping 

wownd, 
That her gay garments staynd with filthy 

gore. 
And overflowed all the field arownd, 
That over shoes in blood he waded on the 

grownd. » « 

XVII. 

Thereat he rored for exceeding paine, 
That to have heard great horror would 

have bred : 
And scourging th' emptie ayre with his 

long trayne. 
Through great impatience of his grieved 
^ hed, 
IRs gorgeous ryder from her loftie sted 



Would have cast downe, and trodd in 

durty my re, 
Had not the Gyaunt soone her succoured ; 
Who, all eurag'd with smart and f ran tick 

yre, 
Came hurtling in full fiers, and forst the 

knight retyre. 

XVIII. 

The force, which wont in two to be dis- 
perst. 
In one alone left hand he now unites, 
Which is through rage more strong then 

both were erst ; 
With which his hideous club aloft he 

dites, 
And at his foe with furious rigor smites. 
That strongest Oake might seeme to over- 
throw. 
The stroke upon his shield so heavie lites, 
That to the ground it doubleth him full 

low: 
What mortall wight could ever beare so 
monstrous blow? 

XIX. 

And in his fall his shield, that covered 

was, 
Did loose his vele by chaunce, and open 

flew; 
The light whereof, that hevens light did 

pas. 
Such blazing brightnesse through the 

ayer threw. 
That eye mote not the same endure to 

vew. 
^V'hich when the Gyaunt spyde with 

staring eye, 
He downe let fall his arme, and soft with- 
drew 
His weapon huge, that heaved was on bye 
For to have slain the man, that on the 

ground did lye. 



And eke the fruitfull-headed beast, 

amazd 
At flashing beames of that sunshiny 

shield. 
Became stark blind, and all his sences 

dazd. 
That downe he tumbled on the durtie 

field, 
And seemd himselfe as conquered to 

yield. 
Whom when his maistresse proud per- 

ceiv'd to fall, 
Whiles yet his feeble feet for faintnesse 

reeld, 
Unto the Gyaunt lowdly she gan call ; 



66 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



'O! heipe, Orgoglio; helpe! or els we 
perish all.' 

XXI. 

At her so pitteous cry was much 

amoov'd 
Her champion stout; and for to ayde his 

frend, 
A^aine his wonted angry weapon proov'd, 
But all in vaine, for he has redd his end 
In that bright shield, and all their forces 

spend 
Them selves in vaine: for, since that 

glauncing sight, 
He hath no powre to hurt, nor to defend. 
As where th' Almighties lightning brond 

does light, 
It dimmes the dazed eyen, and daunts the 

sences quight. 

XXII. 

Whom when the Prince, to battel 11 new 

addrest 
And threatning high his dreadfuU stroke, 

did see. 
His sparkling blade about his head he 

blest, 
And smote off quite his right leg by the 
^,^ knee. 
That downe he tombled ; as an aged 

tree, 
High growing on the top of rocky clif t, 
Whose hartstrings with keene Steele nigh 

he wen be ; 
The mightie trunck, halfe rent with rag- 
ged rift, 
Doth roll adowne the rocks, and fall with 

fearef uU drift, 

.^ XXIII. 

Or as a Castle, reared high and round, 
By subtile engins and malitious slight 
Is undermined from tlie lowest ground, 
And her foundation forst, and feebled 

quight, 
At last downe falles ; and with her heaped 

hight 
Her hastie ruine does, more heavie make, 
And yields it selfe unto the victours 

might. 
Such was this Gyaunts fall, that seemd to 

shake 
The stedfast globe of earth, as it for 

feare did quake. 



\ 



\-^ XXIV. 

The knight, then lightly leaping to the 
piay. 
With mortall Steele him smot againe so 
sore, 



That headlesse his unweldy bodie lay. 
All wallowd in his owne fowle bloody 

gore. 
Which Mowed from his wounds in y^on- 

drous store. 
But, soone as breath out of his brest did 

pas. 
That huge great body, which the Gyaunt 

bore. 
Was vanisht quite; and of that monstrous 

mas 
Was nothing left, but like an emptie 

blader was. 

XXV. 

Whose grievous fall when false Duessa 

spyde. 

Her golden cup she cast unto the ground, 

And crowned mitre rudely threw asyde : 

Such percing griefe her stubborne hart 

did wound. 
That she could not endure that dolefull 

stouud. 
But leaving all behind her fled away : 
The light-foot Squyre her quickly turnd 

around. 
And, by hard meanes enforcing her to 

stay, 
So brought unto his Lord as his deserved 

pray. 

XXVI. 

The roiall Virgin which beheld from 

farre. 
In pensive plight and sad perplexitie. 
The whole atchievement of this doubtfull 

war re. 
Came running fast to greet his victorie. 
With sober gladnesse and myld modestie ; 
And with sweet joyous cheare him thus 

bespake : 
' Fayre braunch of noblesse, fiowre of 

chevalrie, 
That with your worth the world amazed 

make. 
How shall I quite the paynes ye suffer for 

my sake ? 

XXVII. 

' And you, fresh budd of vertue spring- 
ing fast. 

Whom these sad eyes saw nigh unto 
deaths dore. 

What hath poore Virgin for such perill 
past 

Wherewith you to reward ? Accept there- 
fore 

My simple selfe, and service evermore : 

And he that high does sit, and all things 
see 

With equall eye, their merites to restore, 

Behold what ye this day have done for 
mee, % 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



(^7 



And what I eaimot quite requite with 
usuree. 

XXVIII. 

'But sith the heavens, and your faire 

handeliug, 
Have made you master of the field this 

day, 
Your fortune maister eke with governing, 
And, well begoune, end all so well, I pray ! 
Ne let that wicked woman scape away ; 
For she it is, that did my Lord bethrall. 
My dearest Lord, and deepe in dongeou 

lay. 
Where he his better dayes hath wasted 

all: 
O heare, how piteous he to you for ayd 

does call ! ' 



Forthwith he gave in charge unto his 

Squyre, 
That searlot whore to keepen carefully ; 
Whyles he himselfe with greedie great 

desyre 
Into the Castle entred forcibly. 
Where living creature none he did espye. 
Then gan he lowdly through the house to 

call; 
But no man car'd to answere to his crye : 
There raignd a solemne silence over all ; 
Nor voice was heard, nor wight was seene 

in bowre or hall. 

XXX. 

At last, with creeping crooked pace 

forth came 
An old old man, with beard as white as 

snow. 
That on a staffe his feeble steps did 

frame. 
And guyde his wearie gate both too and 

fro. 
For his eye sight him fayled long ygo ; 
And on his arme a bounch of keyes he 

bore. 
The which unused rust did overgrow : 
Those were the kej'es of every inner 

dore; 
But he could not them use, but kept them 

still in store. 

XXXI. 

But \ery uncouth sight was to behold, 
How he did fashion his untoward pace ; 
For as he forward moovd his footing old, 
So backward still was turnd his wrincled 

face: 
Unlike to men, who ever, as they trace, 
Both feet and face one way are wont to 

f lead. 



This was the auncient keeper of that 

place, 
And foster father of the Gyaunt dead ; 
His name Ignaro did his nature right 

aread. 

XXXII. 

His reverend heares and holy gravitee 
The knight much honord, as beseemed 

well ; 
And gently askt, where all the people 

bee, 
Which in that stately building wont to 

dwell : 
Who answerd him full soft, he could not 

tell. 
Again he askt, where that same knight 

was layd, 
Whom great Orgoglio with his puissaunce 

fell 
Had made his caytive thrall : againe he 

sayde. 
He could not tell : ne ever other answere 

made. 



Then asked he, which way he in might 

pas? 
He could not tell, againe he answered. • 
Thereat the courteous knight displeased 

was. 
And said ; ' Old syre, it seemes thou hast 

not red 
How ill it sits with that same silver bed. 
In vaine to mocke, or mockt in vaine to 

bee: 
But if thou be, as thou artpoui-trahed 
With natures pen, in ages grave degree, 
Aread in graver wise what I demaund of 

thee.' 

XXXIV. 

His answere likewise was, he could not 

tell: 
Whose sencelesse speach, and doted 

ignorance, 
Whenas the noble Prince had marked 

well. 
He ghest his nature by his countenance. 
And calmd his wrath with goodly tem- 
perance. 
Then, to him stepping, from his arme did 

reach 
Those keyes, and made himselfe free 

ente ranee. 
Each dore he opened without any breach ; 
There was no barre to stop, nor foe him to 

empeach. 

XXXV, 

There all within full rich arayd he 
found. 
With royall arras, and resplendent gold. 



68 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



And did with store of every thing abound, 

That greatest Princes presence might be- 
hold. 

But all the floore (too filthy to be told) 

With blood of guiltlesse babes, and inno- 
cents trew, 

Which there were slaine as sheepe out of 
the fold, 

Defiled was, that dreadf ull was to vew ; 

And sacred ashes over it was strowed new. 



And there beside of marble stone was 

built 
An Altare, carv'd with cunning ymagery, 
On which trew Christians blood was often 

spilt, 
And holy Martyres often doen to dye 
AVith cruell malice and strong tyranny : 
Whose blessed sprites, from underneath 

the stone, 
To God for vengeance cryde continually ; 
And with great griefe were often heard to 

grone, 
That hardest heart would bleede to hear 

their piteous moue. 

XXXVII. 

Through every rowme he sought, and 

everie bowr. 
But no where could he find that wofull 

thrall: 
At last he came unto an yron doore, 
That fast was lockt, but key found not at 

all 
Emongst that bounch to open it withall ; 
But in the same a little grate was pight, 
Through which he sent his voyce, and lowd 

did call 
With all his powre, to weet if living 

wight 
Were housed there within, whom he en- 

largen might. 



Therewith an hollow, dreary, murmur- 
ing voyce 

These pitteous plain tes and dolours did 
resound : 

' O! who is that, which bringes me happy 
choyce 

Of death, that here lye dying every stound, 

Yet live perforce in balefuU darkenesse 
1 -- • bound? 

"For now three Moones have changed thrice 
their hew, 

And have been thrice hid underneath the 
ground, 

Since I the heavens chearefull face did 
vew. 



O! welcome thou, that doest of death 
bring tydings trew. ' 



Which when that Champion heard, with 

percing point 
Of pitty deare his hart was thrilled sore ; 
And trembling horrour ran through every 

joynt, 
For ruth of gentle knight so fowle forlore : 
Which shaking off, he rent that yron 

dore 
With furious force and indignation fell ; 
Where entred in, his foot could find no 

flore, 
But all a deepe descent, as darke as hell, 
That breathed ever forth a filthie banef ull 

smell. 

XL. 

But nether darkenesse fowle, nor filthy 
bands, 
Nor noyous smell, his purpose could with- 
hold, 
(Entire affection hateth nicer hands) 
But that with constant zele and corage 

bold. 
After long paines and labors manifold. 
He found the meanes that Prisoner up to 

reare ; 
Whose feeble thighes, unable to uphold 
His pined corse, him scarse to light could 

beare ; 
A ruefuU spectacle of death and ghastly 
drere. 

XLI. 

His sad dull eies, deepe sunck in hollow 

pits, 
Could not endure th' unwonted sunne to 

view ; 
His bare thin cheekes for want of better 

bits. 
And empty sides deceived of their dew, 
Could make a stony hart his hap to rew ; 
His rawbone amies, whose mighty 

brawned bowrs 
Were wont to rive Steele plates, and hel- 
mets hew, 
Were clene consum'd; and all his vital! 

powres 
Decayd, and al his flesh shronk up like 

withered flowres. 

XLII. 

AVhome when his Lady saw, to him she 

ran 

With hasty joy : to see him made her glad, 

And sad to view his visage pale and wan, 

Who earst in flowres of freshest youth 

was clad. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



69 



Tho, wheu her well of teares she wasted 
had, 

She said ; ' Ah dearest Lord ! what evill 
starre 

On you hath frownd, and pourd his in- 
fluence bad, 

That of your selfe ye thus berobbed arre, 

And this misseeining hew your manly 
looks doth marre ? 

XLIII. 

* But welcome now, my Loi*d in wele or 

woe, 
Whose presence I have lackt too long a 

day: 
Aiid fie on Fortune, mine avowed foe, 
Whose wrathful wreakes them selves doe 

now alay ; 
And for these wronges shall treble pen- 

aunce pay 
Of treble good : good growes of evils 

priefe.' 
The chearelesse man, whom sorrow did 

dismay. 
Had no delight to treaten (9l his griefe ; 
His long endured famine needed more 

relief e. 

XLIV. 

' Faire Lady,' then vSaid that victorious 

knight, 
' The things, that grievous were to doe, 

or beare, 
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight; 
Best musicke breeds delight in loathing 

eare : 
But th' only good that growes of passed 

feare 
Is to be wise, and ware of like agein. 
This daies ensample hath this lesson deare 
Deepe written in my heart with yron pen. 
That blisse may not abide in state of 

mortall men. 

XLV. 

'Henceforth, Sir knight, take to you 

wonted strength, 
And maister these mishaps with patient 

might, 
Loe ! where your foe lies strecht in mon- 
strous length ; 
And loe! that wicked woman in your 

sight. 
The roote of all your care and wretched 

plight. 
Now in your powre, to let her live, or die.' 
'To doe her die,' (quoth Una) 'were de- 

spiglit, 
And shame t'avenge so weake an enimy; 
But spoile her of her scarlot robe, and let 

her fly.' 



So, as she bad, that witch they disaraid. 
And robd of roiall robes, and purple pall, 
And ornaments that richly were displaid ; 
Ne spared they to strip her naked all. 
Then, when they had despoyld her tire 

and call. 
Such as she was their eies might her be- 
hold. 
That her misshaped parts did them appall : 
A loathly, wriuckled hag, ill favoured, 

old. 
Whose secret filth good manners biddeth 
not be told. 



Her crafty head was altogether bald. 
And, as in hate of honorable eld, 
Was overgrowue with scurfe and filthy 

scald ; 
Her teeth out of her rotten gummes were 

feld. 
And her sowre breath abhominably smeld ; 
Her dried dugs, lyke bladders lacking 

wind, 
Hong downe, and filthy matter from them 

weld ; 
Her wrizled skin, as rough as maple rind. 
So scabby was that would have loathd all 

womankind. 



Her neather parts, the shame of all her 

kind. 
My chaster Muse for shame doth blush to 

write ; 
But at her rompe she growing had behind 
A foxes taile, with dong all fowly dight; 
And eke her feete most monstrous were in 

sight ; 
For one of them was like an Eagles claw, 
With griping talaunts armd to greedy 

fight; 
The other like a beares uneven paw. 
More ugly shape yet never living creature 

saw. 

XLIX. 

Which when the knights bcLeUl amazd 

they were. 
And wondred at so fowle deformed wight. 
' Such then,' (said Una,) ' as she seemeth 

here, 
Such is the face of falshood : such the sight 
Of fowle Duessa, when her borrowed light 
Is laid away, and counterfesaunce 

knowne.' 
Thus when they had the witch disrobed 

quight, 
And all her filthy feature open showne, 



70 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



They let her goe at will, and wander waies 
unknowne. 

L. 

Shee, flying fast from heavens hated 

face, 
And from the world that her discovered 

wide, 
Fled to the wastfuU wildernesse apace. 
From living eies her open shame to hide, 



And lurkt in rocks and caves, long un- 

espide. 
But that faire crew of knights, and Una 

faire, 
Did in that castle afterwards abide, 
To rest them selves, and weary powres 

repaire ; 
Where store they fownd of al that dainty 

was and rare. 



CANTO IX. 

His loves and lignage Arthure tells : 
The knights knitt friendly bands : 

Sir Trevisan flies from Despe\-re, 
Whom Kedcros knight withstands. 



O GOODLY golden chayne, wherewith 

yfere 
The vertues linked are in lovely wize ; 
And noble miudes of yore allyed were, 
In brave poursuitt of chevalrous emprize. 
That none did others safety despize, 
Nor aid envy to him in need that stands ; 
But friendly each did others praise devize. 
How to advaunce with favourable hands, 
As this good Prince redeemd the Red- 

crosse knight from bands. 



Who when their powres, empayrd 
through labor long. 
With dew repast they had recured well. 
And that weake captive wight now wexed 

strong. 
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell, 
But forward fai'e as their adventures fell : 
But, ere they parted, Una faire besought 
That strauuger knight his name and na- 
tion tell ; 
Least so great good, as he for her had 

wrought. 
Should die unknown, and buried be in 
thankles thought. 



* Faire virgin,' (said the Prince,) * yee 

me require 
A thing without the compas of mv witt ; 
For both the lignage, and the certein Sire, 
From which I sprong, from mee are hidden 

yitt; 
For all so soone as life did me admitt 
Into this world, and shewed hevens light. 
From mothers pap I taken was unfitt, 
And streight deliver'd to a Fary knight, 
To be upbrought in gentle thewes and 

martiall might. 



' Unto Old Timon he me brought bylive ; 
Old Timon, who in youthly yeares hath 

beene 
In warlike feates th' expertest man alive, 
And is the wisest now on earth I weene : 
His dwelling is low in a valley greene, 
Under the foot of Rauran mossy hore, 
From whence the river Dee, as silver 

cleene. 
His tombling billowes rolls with gentle 

rore ; 
There all my dales he traind mee up in 

vertuous lore. 

V. 

' Thither the great magicien Merlin 

came. 
As was his use, ofttimes to visitt mee ; 
For he had charge my discipline to frame. 
And Tutors nouriture to oversee. 
Him oft and oft I askt in privity. 
Of what loines and what lignage I did 

spring ; 
Whose aunswere bad me still assured bee, 
That I was sonne and heire unto a king, 
As time in her just term the truth to light 

should bring.' 



' Well worthy impe,' said then the Lady 
gent, 

' And Pnpill fitt for such a Tutors hand! 

But what adventure, or what high intent, 

Hath brought you hither into Faery 
land, 

Aread, Prince Arthure, crowne of Martiall 
band ? ' 

' Full hard it is,' (quoth he) * to read aright 

The course of heavenly cause, or under- 
stand 

The secret meaning of th' eternall might. 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



71 



That rules mens waies, and rules the 
thoughts of living wight. 



'For whether he, through fatal deepe 

foresight, 
Me hither sent for cause to me unghest ; 
Or that fresh bleeding wound, which day 

and night 
Whilome doth rancle in my riven brest, 
With forced fury following his behest, 
Me hither brought by wayes yet never 

found. 
You to have helpt I hold my selfe yet 

blest.' 
*Ah! courteous Knight,' (quoth she) 

' what secret wound 
Could ever find to grieve the gentlest hart 

on ground ? ' 



* Dear Dame,' (quoth he) * you sleeping 

sparkes awake, 
Which, troubled once, into huge flames 

will grow ; 
Ne ever will their fervent fury slake, 
Till living moysture into smoke do flow. 
And wasted life doe lye in ashes low : 
Yet sithens silence lesseneth not my fire, 
But, told, it flames; and, hidden, it does 

glow, 
I will revele what ye so much desire. 
Ah, Love ! lay down thy bow, the whiles 

I may respyre. 



' It was in freshest flowre of youthly 
yeares. 
When corage first does creepe in manly 

chest. 
Then first the cole of kindly heat appeares 
To kindle love in every living brest : 
But me had warnd old Timons wise behest, 
Those creeping flames by reason to sub- 
dew, 
Before their rage grew to so great unrest, 
As miserable lovers use to rew. 
Which still wex old in woe, whiles wo stil 
wexeth new. 



* That ydle name of love, and lovers life, 
As losse of time, and vertues enimy, 
I ever scornd, and joyd to stirre up strife, 
In middest of their mournfull Tragedy ; 
Ay wont to laugh when them I heard to 

cry, 
And blow the fire which them to sishes 
brent : 



Their God himself e, grievd at my libertie, 
Shott many a dart at me with fiers intent ; 
But I them warded all with wary govern- 
ment. 

XI. 

* But all in vaine : no fort can be so 

strong, 
Ne fleshly brest can armed be so sownd, 
But will at last be wonne with battrie long. 
Or unawares at disavantage fownd. 
Nothing is sure that growes on earthly 

grownd ; 
And who most trustes in arme of fleshly 

might. 
And boastes in beauties chaine not to be 

bo wnd , 
Doth soonest fall in disaventrous fight, 
And yeeldes his caytive neck to victours 

most despight. 



'En sample make of him your haplesse 

joy. 

And of my selfe now mated, as ye see ; 
AVhose prouder vaunt that proud avenging 

boy 
Did soone pluck downe, and curbd my 

libertee. 
For on a day, prickt forth with jollitee 
Of looser life and heat of hardiment, 
Raunging the forest wide on courser free, 
The fields, the floods, the heavens, with 

one consent, 
Did seeme to laugh on me, and favour 

mine intent. 



' Forwearied with my sportes, I did 

alight 
From loftie steed, and downe to sleepe me 

layd ; 
The verdant gras my couch did goodly 

dight, 
And pillow was my helmett fayre dis- 

playd ; 
Whiles every sence the humour sweet 

embayd. 
And slombi-ing soft my hart did steale 

away, 
Me seemed, by my side a royall Mayd 
Her daintie limbes full softly down did 

lay: 
So fayre a creature yet saw never sunny 

day. 

XIV. 

* Most goodly glee and lovely blandish- 
ment 
She to me made, and badd me love her 
deare : 



72 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



For dearely sure her love was to me bent, 
As, when just time expired, should 

appeare. 
But whether dreames delude, or true it 

were, 
Was never hart so ravisht with delight, 
Ne living man like wordes did ever heare, 
As she to me delivered all that night ; 
And at her parting said, She Queene of 

Faeries hight. 



XV. 

' When I awoke, and found her place 

devoyd, 
And nought but pressed gras where she 

had lyen , 
I sorrowed all so much as earst I joyd. 
And washed all her place with watry eyen. 
From that day forth I lov'd that face 

divyne ; 
From that day forth I cast in carefull 

mynd, 
To seek her out with labor and long tyne, 
And never vowd to rest till her I fynd : 
Nyne monethes I seek in vain, yet ni'll 

that vow unbynd.' 



Thus as he spake, his visage wexed pale. 
And chaunge of hew great passion did 

bewray ; 
Yett still he strove to cloke his inward 

bale, 
And hide the smoke that did his fire dis- 
play. 
Till gentle Una thus to him gan say: 
' O happy Queene of Faeries ! that hast 

fowud, 
Mongst many, one that with his prowesse 

may 
Defend thine honour, and thy foes con- 

fownd. 
True loves are often sown, but seldom 

grow on grownd.' 



'Thine, O! then,' said the gentle Red- 

crosse knight, 
* Next to that Ladies love, shalbe the place, 
O fayrest virgin! full of heavenly light, 
Whose wondrous faith, exceeding earthly 

race. 
Was firmest fixt in myne extremest case. 
And you, my Lord, the Patrone of my life, 
Of that great Queene may well gaine 

worthie grace ; 
For onely worthie you through prowes 

priefe, 
Yf living man mote worthie be to be her 

]^pf-.' 



So diversly discoursing of their loves, 
The golden Sunne his glistring head gan 

shew. 
And sad remembraunce now the Prince 

amoves 
With fresh desire his voyage to pursew ; 
Als Una earnd her traveill to renew. 
Then those two knights, fast friendship 

for to bynd. 
And love establish each to other trew, 
Gave goodly gifts, the signes of gratefull 

mynd. 
And eke, as pledges firme, right hands 

together joynd. 

XIX. 

Prince Arthur gave a boxe of Diamond 
sure, ■ 

Embowd with gold and gorgeous orna- 
ment. 

Wherein were closd few drops of liquor 
pure. 

Of wondrous worth, and vertue excellent. 

That any wownd could heale incontinent. 

Which to requite, the Redcrosse knight 
him gave 

A booke, wherein his Saveours testament 

Was writt with golden letters rich and 
brave : 

A worke of wondrous grace, and hable 
soules to save. 

XX. 

Thus beene they parted ; Arthur on his 

way 
To seeke his love, and th' other for to 

fight 
With Unaes foe, that all her realme did 

pray. 
But she, now weighing the decayed plight 
And shrunken synewes of her chosen 

knight. 
Would not a while her forward course 

pursew, 
Ne bring him forth in face of dreadfull 

fight, 
Till he recovered had his former hew ; 
For him to be yet weake and wearie well 

she knew. 

XXI. 

So as they traveild, lo! they gan espy 
An armed knight towards them gallop 

fast. 
That seemed from some feared foe to fly, 
Or other griesly thing that him aghast. 
Still as he fledd his eye was backward 

cast. 
As if his feare still followed himbehynd: 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



73 



Als flew his steed as lie his bandes had 

brast. 
And with his winged heeles did tread the 

wyud, 
As he had beene a fole of Pegasus his 

kynd. 

XXII. 

Nigh as he drew, they might perceive 

his head 
To bee uuarmd, and curld uncombed 

heares 
Upstariug stiff e, dismaid with uncouth 

dread : 
Nor drop of blood in all his face appeares, 
Nor life in limbe; and, to increase his 

feares. 
In fowle reproch of knighthoodes fayre 

degree, 
About his neck an hempen rope he weares, 
That with his glistriug armes does ill 

agree ; 
But he of rope or armes has now no 

memoree. 

XXIII. 

The Redcrosse knight toward him 

crossed fast, 
To west what mister wight was so dis- 

mayd. 
There him he findes all sencelesse and 

aghast, 
That of him selfe he seemd to be afrayd ; 
Whom hardly he from flying forward 

stayd. 
Till he these wordes to him deliver might : 
* Sir knight, aread who hath ye thus arayd , 
And eke from whom make ye this hasty 

flight ? 
For never knight I saw in such misseem- 

uig plight.' 

XXIV. 

He answei'd nought at all ; but adding 

new 
Feare to his first amazment, staring wyde 
With stony eyes and hartlesse hollow hew, 
Astonisht stood, as one that had aspyde 
Inferuall furies with their chaines uu'tyde. 
Him yett againe, and yett againe, bespake 
The gentle knight; who nought to him 

replyde ; 
But, trembling every joynt, did inly 

quake, 
And foltring tongue, at last, these words 

seemd forth to shake ; 

XXV. 

* For Gods deare love. Sir knight, doe 
me not stay ; 
For loe! he comes, he comes fast after 
mee.' 



Eft looking back would faine have runne 

away; 
But he him forst to stay, and tell en free 
The secrete cause of his perplexitie : 
Yet nathemore by his bold hartie speach 
Could his blood frosen hart emboldened 

bee. 
But through his boldnes rather feare did 

reach ; 
Yett, forst, at last he made through silence 

suddein breach. 



* And am I now in safetie sure,' (quoth 

he) 
' From him that would have forced me to 

dye? 
And is the point of death now turud fro 

mee, 
That I may tell this haplesse history ? ' 
' Fear nought,' (quoth he) * no damiger 

now is nye.' 
' Then shall I you recount a ruefull cace,' 
(Said he) ' the which with this unlucky 

eye 
I late beheld; and, had not greater grace 
Me reft from it, had bene partaker of the 

place. 

XXVII. 

' I lately chaunst (Would I had never 

chaunst!) 
AVith a fayre knight to keepen companee, 
Sir Terwin hight, that well himselfe ad- 

vaunst 
In all affayres, and was both bold and 

free ; 
But not so happy as mote happy bee : 
He lov'd, as was his lot, a Lady gent, 
That him againe lov'd in the least degree ; 
For she was proud, and of too high intent, 
And joyd to see her lover languish and 

lament : 

XXVIII. 

* From whom retouruing sad and com- 

fortlesse. 
As on the way together we did fare. 
We met that villen, (God from him me 

blesse !) 
That cursed wiglit, from whom I scapt 

whyleare, 
A man of hell that calls himselfe De- 

spayre : 
Who first us greets, and after fayre 

areedes 
Of tydinges straunge, and of adventures 

rare : 
So creeping close, as Snake in hidden 

weedes, 
Inquireth of our states, and of our knightly 

deedes. 



74 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



XXIX. 

* Which -when he knew, and felt our 

feeble harts 
Embost with bale, and bitter by ting 

griefe, 
Which love had launched with his deadly 

darts, 
With wounding words, and termes of 

foule repriefe, 
He pluckt from us all hope of dew relief e. 
That earst us held in love of lingring 

life; 
Then hopelesse, hartlesse, gan the cun- 
ning thiefe 
Perswade us dye, to stint all further 

strife : 
To me he lent this rope, to him a rusty 

knife. 

XXX. 

' With which sad instrument of hasty 

death. 
That wofuU lover, loathing lenger light, 
A wyde way made to let forth living 

breath : 
But I, more fearefull or more lucky wight, 
Dismayd with that deformed dismall 

sight, 
Fledd fast away, halfe dead with dying 

feare ; 
Ne yet assur'd of life by you, Sir knight, 
Whose like infirmity like chaunce may 

beare ; 
But God you never let his charmed 

speaches heare ! ' 

XXXI. 

'How may a man,' (said he) 'with 

idle speach 
Be wonne to spoyle the Castle of his 

health ? ' 
' I wote, ' (quoth he) ' whom tryall late 

did teach. 
That like would not for all this worldes 

wealth. 
His subtile tong like dropping honny 

mealt'h 
Into the heart, and searcheth every vaine ; 
That, ere one be aware, by secret stealth 
His powre is reft, and weaknes doth re- 

maine. 
O! never. Sir, desire to try his guilefull 

traine.' 

XXXII. 

'Certes,' (sayd he) ' hence shall I never 

rest, 
Till I that treachours art have heard and 

tryde : 
And you, Sir knight, whose name mote I 

request, 



Of grace do me unto his cabin guyde.' 
' I, that bight Trevisan,' (quoth he) ' will 

ryde 
Against my liking backe to doe you grace : 
But nor for gold nor glee will I abyde 
By you, when ye arrive in that same 

place ; 
For lever had I die then see his deadly 

face.' 

XXXIII. 

Ere long they come where that same 

wicked wight 
His dwelling has, low in an hollow cave, 
For underneath a cragy clilf ypight, 
Darke, dolefull, dreary, like a greedy 

grave. 
That still for carrion carcases doth crave: 
On top whereof ay dwelt the ghastly 

Owle, 
Shrieking his balefull note, which ever 

drave 
Far from that haunt all other chearefull 

fowle ; 
And all about it wandring ghostes did 

wayle and howle. 

xxxiv. 
And all about old stockes and stubs of 

trees, 
Whereon nor fruit nor leafe was ever 

seene. 
Did hang upon the ragged rocky knees ; 
On which had many wretches hanged 

beeue, 
Whose carcases were scattred on the 

greene. 
And throwne about the cliffs. Arrived 

there, 
That bare-head knight, for dread and 

dolefull teeue, 
Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen 

neare ; 
But th' other forst him staye, and com- 
forted in feare. 

XXXV. 

That darkesome cave they enter, where 
they find 
That cursed man , low sitting on the ground, 
Musing full sadly in his sullein mind : 
His griesie lockes, long growen and un- 

" bound, 
Disord red hong about his shoulders round. 
And hid his face, through which his hol- 
low eyne 
Lookt deadly dull, and stared as astound ; 
His raw-bone cheekes, through penurie 

and pine, 
Were shronke into his jawes, as he did 
never dyne. 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



75 



XXXVI. 

His garment, nought but many ragged 
clouts, 
With thornes together pind and patched 

was, 
The which his naked sides he wrapt 

abouts ; 
And him beside there lay upon the gras 
A dreary corse, whose life away did pas, 
All wallowd in his own yet luke-warme 

blood, 
That from his wound yet welled fresh, 

alas! 
In which a rusty knife fast fixed .stood, 
And made an open passage for the gush- 
ing flood. 

xxxvir. 

Which piteous spectacle, approving trew 
The wofuU tale that Trevisan had told, 
Wheuas the gentle Redcrosse knight did 

vew. 
With firie zeale he burnt in courage bold 
Him to avenge before his blood were cold. 
And to the villein sayd ; ' Thou damned 

wight. 
The authour of this fact we here behold. 
What justice can but judge against thee 

right. 
With thine owne blood to price his blood, 

here shed in sight ? ' 

XXXVIII. 

' What franticke fit,' (quoth he) ' hath 

thus distraught 
Thee, foolish man, so rash a doome to 

give ? 
Wliat justice ever other judgement taught, 
But he should dye who merites not to 

live ? 
None els to death this man despayring 

drive 
But his owne guiltie mind, deserving 

death. 
Is then unjust to each his dew to give ? 
Or let him dye, that loatheth living 

breath, 
Or let him die at ease, that liveth here 

uneath? 

XXXIX. 

' Who travailes by the wearie wand ring 
way. 
To come unto his wished home in haste, 
And meetes a flood that doth his passage 

stay, 
Is not great grace to helpe him over past, 
Or free his feet that in the myre sticke 

fast? 
Most envious man, that grieves at neigh- 
bours good; 



And fond, that joyest in the woe thou 

hast! 
Why wilt not let him passe, that long 

hath stood 
Upon the baucke, yet wilt thy selfe not 

pas the flood? 



' He there does now enjoy eternall rest 
And happy ease, which thou doest want 

and crave. 
And further from it daily wanderest : 
What if some little payne the passage 

have, 
That makes f rayle flesh to feare the bitter 

Avave, 
Is not short payne well borne, that bringes 

long ease. 
And layes the soule to sleepe in quiet 

grave? 
Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie 

seas, 
Ease after warrc, ;'eath after life, does 

greatly please.' 



The knight much wondred at his sud- 
deine wit. 
And sayd ; ' The terme of life is limited, 
Ne may a man prolong, nor shorten, it: 
The souldier may not move from watch- 
full sted. 
Nor leave his stand untill his Captaiue 

bed.' 
' Who life did limit by almightie doome,' 
(Quoth he) ' kuowes'best the termes es- 
tablished ; 
And he, that points the Centonell his 

roome, 
Doth license him depart at soimd of morn- 
ing droome.' 

XLII. 

'Is not his deed, what ever thing is 

donne 
In heaven and earth? Did not he all 

create 
To die againe? All ends that was be- 

gonne : 
Their times in his eternall booke of fate 
Are written sure, and have their certein 

date. 
Who then can strive with strong neces- 

sitie, 
That holds the world in his still chaung- 

ing state, 
Or shuiine the death ordaynd by des- 

tinie ? 
AVhen houre of death is come, let none 

aske whence, nor why. 



76 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



' The lenger life, I wote, the greater sin ; 
The greater sin, the greater punishment: 
All those great battels, which thou boasts 

to win 
Through strife, and blood-shed, and 

avengement. 
Now praysd, hereafter deare thou shalt 

repent ; 
For life must life, and blood must blood, 

repay. 
Is not enough thy evill life forespent ? 
For he that once hath missed the right 

way, 
The further he doth goe, the further he 

doth stray. 



Then dop 



XLIV. 

*urtaer goe, no further 



l-!'\'ne, and to thy rest betake, 

yvent. thp^t ^'feense- ?n may; 

o'thli-c that may it loved make, 

..i. rather cause it to forsake ? 

: ^^^,«se, ago, losse, labour, sor- 

ruw, strife, 
Payne, hunger, cold that makes the hart 

f . , r uakc 
And ever fickle fortune rageth rife; 
All which, and thousands mo, do make a 
loathsome life. 



'Thou, wretched rr;^n, of death hast 

greatest need, 
If in true ballaunce thou wilt weigh thy 

state ; 
For never knight, that dared warlike 

deed. 
More luckless dissaventures did amate : 
Witnes the dungeon deepe, wherein of late 
Thy life shutt up for death so oft did call ; 
And though good lucke prolonged hath 

thy date, 
Yet death then would the like mishaps 

forestall, 
Into the which hereafter thou maist 

happen fall. 



'Why then doest thou, O man of sin! 
desire 
To draw thy dayes forth to their last de- 
gree ? 
Is not the measure of thy sinfiill hire 
High heaped up with huge iniquitee. 
Against the day of wrath to burden thee? 
Is not enough, that to this Lady mild 
Thou falsed hast thy faith with perjuree, 



And sold thy selfe to serve Duessa vild. 
With whom in al abuse thou hast thy 
selfe defild ? 

XLVII. 

' Is not he just, that all this doth behold 
From highest heveu, and beares an equall 

eie? 
Shall he thy sins up in his knowledge fold, 
And guilty be of thine impietie? 
Is not his lawe. Let every sinner die ; 
Die shall all flesh? What then must 

needs be donne. 
Is it not better to doe willinglie. 
Then linger till the glas be all out ronne ? 
Death is the end of woes : die soone, O 

faeries soune ! ' 



The knight was much ennioved with his 
speach, 

That as a swords poyut thiough his hart 
did perse, 

And in his con.science made a secrete 
breHcii, 

Well knowing trewall Ihat he did Toheise, 

And to his iresh remembraunce did re- 
verse 

The ugly vew of his deformed crimes ; 

That- all his manly powres it did disperse, 

As he were charmed with inchaunted 
rimes; 

That oftentimes he quakt, and fainted 
oftentimes. 

XLIX. 

In which amazement when the Mis- 

creaunt 
Perceived him to waver, weake and fraile. 
Whiles trembling horror did his conscience 

daunt. 
And hellish anguish did his soule assaile ; 
To drive him to despaire, and quite to 

quaile, 
Hee shewd him, painted in a table plaine. 
The damned ghosts that doe in torments 

waile. 
And thousand feends that doe them end- 

lesse paine 
With fire and brimstone, which for ever 

shall remaine. 



The sight whereof so throughly him 

dismaid, 
That nought but death before his eies he 

saw, 
And ever burning wrath before him laid. 
By righteous sentence of th' Almighties 

law. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



77 



Then gau the villein him to overcraw, 
And brought unto hiin swords, ropes, 

poison, fire. 
And all that might him to perdition draw ; 
And bad him choose what death he would 

desire ; 
For death was dew to him that had pro- 

vokt Gods ire. 



But, whenas none of them he saw him 

take, 
He to him raught a dagger sharpe and 

keene. 
And gave it him in hand ; his hand did 

quake 
And tremble like a leafe of Aspin greene, 
And troubled blood through his pale face 

was scene 
To come and goe with tidings from the 

heart, 
As it a ronning messenger had beene. 
At last, resolv'd to work his finall smart. 
He lifted up his hand, that backe againe 

did start. 

LII. 

Which whenas Una saw, through every 

vaine 
The crudled cold ran to her well of life. 
As in a swowne : but, soone reliv'd againe, 
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed 

knife. 
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife. 
And to him said; ' Fie, fie, faint hearted 

Knight ! 
What meanest thou by this reprochfull 

strife ? 
Is this the battaile which thou vauntst to 

fight 



With that fire-mouthed Dragon, horrible 
and bright ? 



' Come ; come away, fraile, feeble, 

fleshly wight, 
Ne let vaine words bewitch thy manly 

hart, 
Ne divelish thoughts dismay thy constant 

spright : 
In heavenly mercies hast thou not a part ? 
Why shouldst thou then despeire, that 

chosen art? 
W^here justice growes, there grows eke 

greater grace. 
The which doth quench the broud of 

hellish smart. 
And that accurst hand-writing doth de- 
face. 
Arise, sir Knight; arise, and leave this 

cursed place.' 



So up he rose, and thence amounted 

streight. 
Which when the carle beheld, and saw 

his guest 
Would safe depart, for all his subtile 

sleight, 
He chose an halter from among the rest, 
And with it hong him selfe, unhid, un- 

blest. 
But death he could not worke himselfe 

thereby ; 
For thousand timbL he so him selfe had 

drest, 
Yet nathelesse it could not doe him die. 
Till he should die his last, that is, eter- 
nally. 



CANTO X. 

Her faithfull knight faire LTna briugs 

To house ofHolinesse; 
Where he is taught repentaunce, and 

The way to hevenly blesse. 



What man is he, that boasts of fleshly 
might 
And vaine assuraunce of mortality, 
Which, all so soone as it doth come to 

fight 
Against spirituall foes, yields by and by. 
Or from the fielde most cowardly doth fly ! 
Ne let the man ascribe it to his skill. 
That thorough grace hath gained victory : 
If any strength we have, it is to ill. 



But all the good is Gods, both power and 
eke will. 

II. 

By that which lately hapned Una saw 
That this her knight was feeble, and too 

faint ; 
And all his sinewes woxen weake and raw, 
Through long enprisonment, and hard 

constraint, 
Which he endured in his late restraint. 
That yet he was unfitt for bloody fight. 



78 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Therefore, to cherish him with diets daint, 
She cast to bring him where he chearen 

might, 
Till he recovered had his late decayed 

plight. 

III. 
There was an auncient house nor far 

away, 
Renowmd throughout the world for sacred 

lore 
And pure unspotted life: so well, they 

say. 
It governd was, and guided evermore. 
Through wisedome of a matrone grave 

and hore ; 
Whose onely joy was to relieve the needes 
Of wretched soules, and helpe the helpe- 

lesse pore : 
All night she spent in bidding of her bedes, 
And all the day in doing good and godly 

deedes. 



Dame Cselia men did her call, as thought 
From heaven to come, or thither to arise ; 
The mother of three daughters, well up- 
brought 
In goodly thewes, and godly exercise: 
The eldest two, most sober, chast, and 

wise, 
Fidelia and Speranza, virgins were ; 
Though spousd, yet wanting wedlocks 

solemnize ; 
But faire Charissa to a lovely fere 
Was lincked, and by him had many 
pledges dere. 



Arrived there, the dore they find fast 

lockt, 
For it was warely watched night and day. 
For feare of many foes ; but, when they 

knockt. 
The Porter opened unto them streight way. 
He was an aged syre, all hory gray. 
With lookes full lowly cast, and gate full 

slow. 
Wont on a staff e his feeble steps to stay, 
Hight Humilta. They passe in, stouping 

low; 
For streight and narrow was the way 

which he did show. 



Each goodly thing is hardest to begin ; 
But, entred in, a spatious court they see. 
Both plaine and pleasaunt to be walked 

in ; 
Where them does meete a francklin faire 
and free, 



And entertaines with comely courteous 

glee; 
His name was Zele, that him right well 

became : 
For in his speaches and behaveour hee 
Did labour lively to expresse the same, 
And gladly did them guide, till to the Hall 

they came. 

VII. 

There fayrely them receives a gentle 

Squyre, 
Of myld demeanure and rare courtesee, 
Right cleanly clad in comely sad attyre ; 
In word and deede that shewd great 

modestee, 
And knew his good to all of each degree, 
Hight Reverence. He them with speaches 

meet 
Does faire entreat ; no courting nicetee, 
But simple, trew, and eke unfained sweet. 
As might become a Squyre so great persons 

to greet. 

VIII. 

And afterwardes them to his Dame he 

leades. 
That aged Dame, the Lady of the place, 
Who all this while was busy at her beades ; 
Which doen, she up arose with seemely 

grace, 
And toward them full matronely did pace. 
Where, when that fairest Una she beheld, 
Whom well she knew to spring from 

hevenly race. 
Her heart with joy unwonted inly sweld, 
As feeling wondrous comfort in her weaker 

eld: 

IX. 

And, her embracing, said; 'O happy 

earth. 
Whereon thy innocent feet doe ever tread ! 
Most vertuous virgin, borne of hevenly 

berth. 
That, to redeeme thy woefuU parents head 
From tyrans rage and ever-dying dread. 
Hast wandred through the world now long 

a day, 
Yett ceassest not thy weary soles to lead ; 
What grace hath thee now hither brought 

this way? 
Or doen thy feeble feet unweeting hither 

stray ? 

X. 

' Straunge thing it is an errant knight to 

see 
Here in this place ; or any other wight. 
That hither turnes his steps. So few there 

bee, 
That chose the narrow path, or seeke the 

right : 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



79 



All keepe the broad high way, and take 

delight 
With many rather for to goe astray, 
And be partakers of their evill plight, 
Then with a few to walke the rightest way. 
O foolish men ! why hast ye to your own 

decay ? ' 

XI. 

* Thy selfe to see, and tyred lirabes to 

rest, 
O matrone sage,' (quoth she) * I hither 

came ; 
And this good knight his way with me 

addrest, 
Ledd with thy prayses, and broad-blazed 

fame. 
That up to heven is blowne.' The auncient 

Dame 
Him goodly greeted in her modest guyse, 
And enterteynd them both, as best became, 
With all the court' si es that she could 

devyse, 
Ne wanted ought to shew her bounteous 

or wise. 

XII. 

Thus as they gan of sondrie thinges 

devise, 
Loe! two most goodly virgins came in 

place, 
Ylinked arme in arme in lovely wise: 
With countenance demure, and modest 

grace, 
They numbred even steps and equall pace ; 
Of which the eldest, that Fidelia bight. 
Like sunny beames threw from her 

Christall face 
That could have dazd the rash beholders 

sight. 
And round about her head did shine like 

hevens light. 



She was araied all in lilly white. 
And in her right hand bore a cup of gold. 
With wine and water fild up to the bight. 
In which a Serpent did hims^lfe enfold. 
That horrour made to all that did behold ; 
But she no whitt did chaunge her constant 

mood : 
And in her other hand she fast did hold 
A booke, that was both signd and seald 

with blood i 
Wlierein darke things were writt, hard to 

be understood. 



Her younger sister, that Speranza bight, 
Was clad in blew, that her beseemed 
well; 



Not all so chearefull seemed she of sight. 
As was her sister: whether dread did 

dwell 
Or anguish in her hart, is hard to tell. 
Upon her arme a silver anchor lay, 
Whereon she leaned ever, as befell ; 
And ever up to heven, as she did pray. 
Her stedfast eyes were bent, ne swarved 

other way. 

XV. 

They, seeing Una, towardes her gan 

wend. 
Who them encounters with like courtesee ; 
Many kind speeches they betweene them 

spend. 
And greatly joy each other for to see : 
Then to the knight with shamefast mod- 

estie 
They turne themselves, at Uuaes meeke 

request, 
And him salute with well beseeming 

glee; 
Who faire them quites, as him beseemed 

best. 
And goodly gan discourse of many a noble 

gest. 

XVI. 

Then Una thus: 'But she, your sister 

deare. 
The deare Charissa, where is she become? 
Or wants she health, or busie is els- 

where ? ' 
' Ah ! no,' said they, ' but forth she may 

not come ; 
For she of late is lightned of her wombe. 
And hath encreast the world with one' 

Sonne more, 
That her to see should be but troublesome.' 
'Indeed,' (quoth she) 'that should her 

trouble sore ; 
But thankt be God, and her encrease so 

evermore ! ' 

xvu. 

Then said the aged Caelia, ' Deare dame, 
And you, good Sir, I wote that of youre 

toyle 
And labors long, through which ye hither 

came. 
Ye both forwearied be: therefore, a 

whyle 
I read you rest, and to your bowres re- 

coyle.' 
Then called she a Groome, that forth him 

ledd 
Into a goodly lodge, and gan despoile 
Of puissant amies, and laid in easie 

bedd: 
His name was meeke Obedience, rightfully 

aredd. 



8o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



XVIII. 

Now when their wearie limbes with 

kindly rest, 
And bodies were refresht with dew repast, 
Fayre Una gan Fidelia fayre request, 
To have her knight into her schoolehous 

plaste. 
That of her heavenly learning he might 

taste, 
And heare the wisedom of her wordes 

divine. 
She graunted ; and that knight so much 

agraste. 
That she him taught celestiall discipline, 
And opened his dull eyes, that light mote 

in them shine. 



And that her sacred Booke, with blood 

ywritt. 
That none could reade except she did them 

teach, 
She unto him disclosed every whitt ; 
And heavenly documents thereout did 

preach, 
That weaker witt of man could never 

reach ; 
Of God ; of grace ; of justice ; of free-will ; 
That wonder was to heare her goodly 

speach : 
For she was hable with her wordes to kill, 
And rayse againe to life the hart that she 

did thrill. 



And, when she list poure out her larger 

sp right, 
She would commaund the hasty Sunne to 

stay. 
Or backward turne his course from hevens 

hight : 
Sometimes great hostes of men she could 

dismay ; 
Dry-shod to passe she parts the flouds in 

tway; 
And eke huge mountaines from their 

native seat 
See would commaund themselves to beare 

away, 
And throw in raging sea with roaring 

threat. 
Almightie God her gave such powre and 

puissaunce great. 



The faithfull knight now grew in little 
space, 
By hearing her, and by her sisters lore. 
To such perfection of all hevenly grace, 
That wretched world began for to abhore. 



And mortall life gan loath as thing forlore, 
Greevd with remembrance of his wicked 

wayes. 
And prickt with anguish of his sinnes so 

sore, 
That he desirde to end his wretched dayes : 
So much the dart of sinful! guilt the soule 

dismay es. 

XXII. 

But wise Speranza gave him comfort 

sweet. 
And taught him how to take assured hold 
Upon her silver anchor, as was meet ; 
Els had his sinnes, so great and manifold. 
Made him forget all that Fidelia told. 
In this distressed doubtfull agony. 
When him his dearest Una did behold 
Disdeining life, desiring leave to dye, 
She found her selfe assayld with great 

perplexity ; 



And came to Cselia to declare her smart ; 

Who, well acquainted with that commune 
plight. 

Which siufull horror workes in wounded 
hart. 

Her wisely comforted all that she might, 

With goodly counsell and advisement 
right ; 

And streightway sent with carefull dili- 
gence, 

To fetch a Leach, the which had great 
insight 

In that disease of grieved conscience. 

And well could cure the same : His name 
was Patience. 



Who, comming to that sowle-diseased 

knight. 
Could hardly him intreat to tell his grief : 
Which knowue, and all that uoyd his 

heavie spright 
Well searcht, eftsoones he gan apply 

relief 
Of salves and med'cines, which had pass- 
ing prief ; 
And thereto added wordes of wondrous 

might. 
By which to ease he him recured brief. 
And much aswag'd the passion of his 

plight, 
That he his paine endur'd, as seeming 

now more light. 

XXV. 

But yet the cause and root of all his 
ill. 
Inward corruption and infected sin, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



8i 



Not pui-ff'd nor heald, behind remained 

still, 
And festring sore did ranckle yett 

within, 
Close creeping twixt the marow and the 

skin: 
Which to extirpe, he laid him privily 
Downe in a darksome lowly place far 

in, 
Whereas he meant his corrosives to 

apply, 
And with streight diet tame his stubborne 

malady. 

XXVI. 

In ashes and sackcloth he did array 
His daiutie corse, proud humors to abate ; 
And dieted with fasting every day, 
The swelling of his woundes to mitigate ; 
And made him pray both earely and eke 

late: 
And ever, as superfluous flesh did rott, 
Amendment readie still at hand did wayt, 
To pluck it out with pincers fyrie whott, 
That soone in him was lefte no one cor- 
rupted jott. 

XXVII. 

And bitter Penaunce, with an yron 
whip, 

Was wont him once to disple every 
day: 

And sharp Remorse his hart did prick and 
nip, 

That drops of blood thence like a well did 
play : 

And sad Repentance used to embay 

His blamefuU body in salt water sore, 

The filthy blottes of sin to wash away. 

So in short space they did to health re- 
store 

The man that would not live, but erst lay 
at deathes dore. 

XXVIII. 

In which his torment often was so 

great, 
That like a Lyon he would cry and 

rore, 
And rend his flesh, and his owne synewes 

eat. 
His owne deare Una, hearing evermore 
His ruefull shriekes and gronings, often 

tore 
Her guiltlesse garments and her golden 

heare, 
For pitty of his payne and anguish sore : 
Yet all with patience wisely she did 

beare, 
For well she wist his cryme could els be 

never cleare. 



Whom, thus recover'd by wise Patience 

And trew Repentaunce, they to Una 
brought ; 

Who, joyous of his cured conscience, 

Him dearely kist, and fayrely eke be- 
sought 

Himselfe to chearish, and consuming 
thought 

To put away out of his carefull brest. 

By this Charissa, late in child-bed 
brought. 

Was woxen strong, and left her fruitfull 
nest : 

To her fayre Una brought this un- 
acquainted guest. 

She was a woman in her freshest age, 
Of wondrous beauty, and of bounty rare, 
With goodly grace and comely personage, 
That was on earth not easie to compare ; 
Full of great love, but Cupids wanton 

snare 
As hell she hated ; chaste in worke and 

will : 
Her necke and brests were ever open 

bare, 
That ay thereof her babes might sucke 

their fill ; 
The rest was all in yellow robes arayed 

still. 



A multitude of babes about her hong, 
Playing their sportes, that joyd her to 

behold ; 
Whom still she fed whiles they were 

weake and young. 
But thrust them forth still as they wexed 

old: 
And on her head she wore a tyre of gold, 
Adornd with gemmes and owches won- 
drous fayre. 
Whose passing price uneath was to be 

told: 
And by her syde there sate a gentle payre 
Of turtle doves, she sitting in an yvory 
chayre. 

XXXII. 

The knight and Una eutring fayre her 
greet. 

And bid her joy of that her happy brood ; 

Who them requites with court'sies seem- 
ing meet, 

And entertaynes with friendly chearefull 
mood. 

Then Una her besought, to be so good 

As in her vertuous rules to schoole her 
knight, 



82 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Now after all his torment well withstood 
In that sad house of Penaunce, where his 

spright 
Had past the paines of hell and long- 
enduring night. 

XXXIII. 

She was right joyous of her just re- 
quest ; 
And taking by the hand that Faeries 

Sonne, 
Gan him instruct in everie good behest, 
Of -love, and righteousnes, and well to 

donne ; 
And wrath and hatred warely to shonne. 
That drew on men Gods hatred and his 

wrath, 
And many soules in dolours had for- 

donne : 
In which when him she well instructed 

hath. 
From thence to heaven she teacheth him 

the ready path. 

XXXIV. 

Wherein his weaker wandring steps to 

guyde, 
An auncient matrons she to her does 

call, 
Whose sober lookes her wisedom well 

descryde : 
Her name was Mercy ; well knowne over- 
all 
To be both gratious and eke liberall : 
To whom the carefull charge of him she 

gave, 
To leade aright, that he should never 

fall 
In all his waies through this wide worldes 

wave; 
That Mercy in the end his righteous soule 

might save. 

-> XXXV. 

The godly Matrone by the hand him 

beares 
Forth from her presence, by a narrow 

way, 
Scattred with bushy thornes and ragged 

breares, 
Which still before him she remov'd away, 
That nothing might his ready passage 

stay: 
And ever, when his feet encombred 

were. 
Or gan to shrinke, or from the right to 

stray. 
She held him fast, and firmely did up- 

beare. 
As carefull Nourse her child from falling 

oft does reare. 



Eftsoones unto an holy Hospitall, 
That was foreby the way, she did him 

bring ; 
In which seven Bead-men, that had 

vowed all 
Their life to service of high heavens 

King, 
Did spend their dales in doing godly 

thing. 
Their gates to all were open evermore, 
That by the wearie way were travelling ; 
And one sate wayting ever them before. 
To call in commers-by that needy were 

and pore. 

XXXVII. 

The first of them, that eldest was and 

best, 
Of all the house had charge and governe- 

ment, 
As Guardian and Steward of the rest. 
His office was to give entertainement 
And lodging unto all that came and went ; 
Not unto such as could him feast againe. 
And double quite for that he on them 

spent ; 
But such as want of harbour did con- 

straine : 
Those for Gods sake his dewty was to 

entertaine. 

XXXVIII. 

The second was as Almner of the 

place : 
His office was the hungry for to feed. 
And thristy give to drinke ; a worke of 

grace. 
He feard not once himselfe to be in need, 
Ne car'd to hoord for those whom he did 

breede : 
The grace of God he layd up still in store. 
Which as a stocke he left unto his 

seede. 
He had enough ; what need him care for 

more ? 
And had he lesse, yet some he would give 

to the pore. 

XXXIX. 

The third had of their wardrobe cus- 
tody. 

In which were not rich tyres, nor gar- 
ments gay. 

The plumes of pride, and winges of 
vanity. 

But clothes meet to keepe keene cold 
away. 

And naked nature seemely to aray ; 

With which bare wretched wights he 
dayly clad, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



83 



The images of God in earthly clay ; 

And, if that no spare clothes to give he 
had, 

His owne cote he would cut, and it dis- 
tribute glad. 



The fourth appointed by his office 

was 
Poore prisoners to relieve with gratious 

ayd, 
And captives to redeerae with price of 

bras 
From Turkes and Sarazins, which them 

had stayd : 
And though they faulty were, yet well he 

wayd, 
That God to us forgiveth every howre 
Much more then that why they in bauds 

were layd ; 
And he, that harrowd hell with heavie 

stowre, 
The faulty soules from thence brought to 

his heavenly bowre. 

XLI. 

The fift had charge sick persons to 

attend, 
And comfort those in point of death which 

lay; 
For them most needeth comfort in the 

end, 
When sin, and hell, and death, doe most 

dismay 
The feeble soule departing hence away. 
All is but lost, that living we be- 
stow, 
If not well ended at our dying day. 
O man ! have mind of that last bitter 

throw ; 
For as the tree does fall, so lyes it ever 

low. 

XLII. 

The sixt had charge of them now being 

dead. 
In seemely sort their corses to engrave, 
And deck with dainty flowres their bry- 

dall bed, 
That to their heavenly spouse both sweet 

and brave 
They might appeare, when he their soules 

shall save. 
The wondrous workmanship of Gods owne 

mould. 
Whose face he made all beastes to feare, 

and gave 
All in his hand, even dead we honour 

should. 
Ah, dearest God, me graunt, I dead be 

not defould ! 



XLIII. 

The seventh, now after death and 

buriall done. 
Had charge the tender Orphans of the 

dead 
And wydowes ayd, least they should be 

undone : 
In face of judgement he their right would 

plead, 
Ne ought the powre of mighty men did 

dread 
In their defence ; nor would for gold or 

fee 
Be wonne their rightfull causes downe to 

tread ; 
And, when they stood in most necessitee. 
He did supply their want, and gave them 

ever free. 

XLIV. 

There when the Elfin knight arrived 

was. 
The first and chiefest of the seven, whose 

care 
Was guests to welcome, towardes him did 

pas; 
Where seeing Mercie, that his steps upbare 
And alwaies led, to her with reverence 

rare 
He humbly louted in meeke lowlinesse. 
And seemely welcome for her did prepare : 
For of their order she was Patronesse, 
Albe Charissa were their chiefest found- 

eresse. 

XLV. 

There she awhile him stayes, himself e to 
rest, 
That to the rest more hable he might bee ; 
During which time, in every good behest, 
And godly worke of Almes and charitee, 
Shee him instructed with great industree. 
Shortly therein so perfect he became, 
That, from the first unto the last degi-c:', 
His mortall life he learned had to frame 
In holy righteousnesse, without rebuke or 
blame. 



Thence forward by that painfull way 
they pas 
Forth to an hill that was both steepe and 

On top whereof a sacred chappell was. 
And eke a litle Hermitage thereby, 
Wherein an aged holy man did lie. 
That day and night said his devotion, 
Ne other worldly busines did apply : 
His name was hevenly Contemplation ; 
Of God and goodnes was his medita- 
tion. 



84 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



XLVII. 

Great grace that old mau to him given 

had ; 
For God he often saw from heavens hight : 
All were his earthly eien both blunt and 

bad, 
And through great age had lost their 

kindly sight, 
Yet wondrous quick and persaunt was his 

spright, 
As Eagles eie that can behold the Sunne. 
That hill they scale with all their powre 

and might, 
That his fraile thighes, nigh weary and 

fordonne, 
Gan faile ; but by her helpe the top at last 

he wonne. 



There they doe finds that godly aged 

Sire, 
With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders 

shed; 
As hoary frost with spangles doth attire 
The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded. 
■^^ETach bone might through his body well be 

red 
And every sinew scene, through his long 

fast: 
For nought he car'd his carcas long unfed ; 
His mind was full of spiritual repast. 
And pyn'd his flesh to keepe his body low 

and chast. 



Who, when these two approching he 

aspide, 
At their first presence grew agrieved sore, 
That forst him lay his hevenly thoughts 

aside ; 
And had he not that Dame respected more, 
Whom highly he did I'everence and adore, 
He would not once have moved for the 

knight. 
They him saluted, standing far afore, 
Who, well them greeting, humbly did 

requight, 
And asked to what end they clomb that 

tedious hight? 



'What end,' (quoth she) 'should cause 

us take such paine, 
But that same end, which every living 

wight 
Should make his marke high heaven to 

attaine ? 
Is not from hence the way, that leadeth 

right 



To that most glorious house, that glistreth 

bright 
With burning starres and everliving fire, 
Whereof the keies are to thy hand behight 
By wise Fidelia? Shee doth thee require. 
To shew it to this knight, according his 

desire.' 

LI. 

' Thrise happy man,' said then the father 

grave, 
' Whose staggering steps thy steady hand 

doth lead, 
And shewes the way his sinfull soule to 

save ! 
Who better can the way to heaven aread 
Then thou thyself e, that was both borne 

and bred 
In hevenly throne, where thousand Angels 

shine ? 
Thou doest the praiers of the righteous 

sead 
Present before the majesty divine, 
And his avenging wrath to clemency in- 
cline. 

LII. 

' Yet, since thou bidst, thy pleasure 

shalbe donne. 
Then come, thou man of earth, and see 

the way, 
That never yet was seene of Faeries sonne ; 
That never leads the traveller astray. 
But after labors long and sad delay. 
Brings them to joyous rest and endlesse 

blis. 
But first thou must a season fast and pray, 
Till from her bands the spi'ight assoiled is, 
And have her strength recur'd from fraile 

infirmitis.' 



That done, he leads him to the highest 

Mount J 
Such one as tliat same mighty man of God, 
That blood-red billowes, like a walled 

front. 
On either side disparted with his rod, I 
Till that his army dry-foot through them 

yod. 
Dwelt forty dales upon; where, writt in 

stone 
With bloody letters by the hand of God, 
The bitter doome of death and balefull 

mone 
He did receive, whiles flashing fire about 

him shone : 

LIV. 

Or like that sacred hill, whose head full 



hie, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



85 



Adornd with fruitful! Olives all arownd, 

Is, as it were for endlesse memory 

Of that deare Lord who oft thereon was 

fownd, 
For ever with^aTflowrnig j>irloud crownd : 
Or like that pleasauut Mount, that is for 

ay 
Through famous Poets verse each where 

renownd, 
On which the thrise three learned Ladies 

play 

Their hevenly notes, and make full many 
a lovely lay. 

LV. 

From thence, far off he unto him did 

shew 
A little path that was both steepe and 

long. 
Which to a goodly Citty led his vew ; 
Whose wals and towres were builded high 

and strong 
Of perle and precious stone, that earthly 

tong 
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell; 
Too high a ditty for my simple song. 
The Citty of the greate king bight it well, 
Wherein eternall peace and happinesse 

doth dwell. 

LVI. 

As he thereon stood gazing, he might 

see 
The blessed Angels to and fro descend 
From highest heven in gladsome com- 

panee, 
And with great joy into that Citty wend. 
As commonly as frend does with his frend. 
Whereat he wondred much, and gan en- 

quere, 
What stately building durst so high extend 
Her lofty towres unto the starry sphere, 
And what unknowen nation there empeo- 

pled were? 



*Fai re Knight,' (quoth he) 'Hierusalem 

that is, 
The new Hierusalem, that God has built 
For those to dwell in that are chosen his. 
His chosen people, purg'd from sinful 

guilt 
With pretious blood, which cruelly was 

split 
On cursed tree, of that unspotted lam, 
That for the sinnes of al the world was 

kilt: 
Now are they Saints all in that Citty sam, 
More dear unto their God then younglings 

to their dam.' 



' Till now,' said then the knight, * I 

weened well, 
That great Cleopolis, where I have beene. 
In which that fairest Faery Queene doth 

dwell. 
The fairest citty was that might be scene ; 
And that bright towre, all built of christall 

clene, 
Panthea, seemd the brighest thing that 

was; 
But now by proofe all otherwise I weene. 
For this great Citty that does far surpas. 
And this bright Angels towre quite dims 

that towre of glas.' 



' Most trew,' then said the holy aged 

man ; 
' Yet is Cleopolis, for earthly frame, 
The fairest peece that eie beholden can ; 
And well beseemes all knights of noble 

name. 
That covett in th' immortall booke of 

fame 
To be eternized, that same to haunt, 
And doen their service to that soveraigne 

Dame, 
That glory does to them for guerdon 

graunt : 
For she is hevenly borne, and heaven may 

justly vaunt. 



' And thou, faire ymp, sprong out from 

English race. 
How ever now accompted Elfins sonne. 
Well worthy doest thy service for her 

grace. 
To aide a virgin desolate, foredonne ; 
But when thou famous victory hast wonne. 
And high emongst all knights hast hong 

thy shield, 
Thenceforth the suitt of earthly conquest 

shonne, 
And wash thy hands from guilt of bloody 

field: 
For blood can nought but sin, and wars 

but sorrows yield. 



'Then seek this path that I to thee 

presage. 
Which after all to heaven shall thee send ; 
Then peaceably thy painefull pilgrimage 
To yonder same Hierusalem doe bend, 
Where is for thee ordained a blessed end : 
For thou, emongst those Saints whom thou 

doest see. 



86 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Shalt be a Saint, and thine owue nations 

frend 
And Patrone: thou Saint George shalt 

called bee, 
Saint George of mery England, the signe 

of victoree.' 



'Unworthy wretch,' (quoth he) 'of so 

great grace, 
How dare I thinke such glory to attaine ? ' 
' These, that have it attaynd, were in like 

cace, 
As wretched men, and lived in like paine.' 
' But deeds of armes must I at last be f aine 
And Ladies love to leave, so dearely 

bought ? ' 
* What need of armes, where peace doth 

ay remaine,' 
(Said he) ' and bitter battailes all are 

fought ? 
As for loose loves, they'are vaine, and 

vanish into nought.' 

LXIII. 

' O! let me not,' (quoth he) ' then turne 
agaiue 
Backe to the world, whose joyes so fruit- 

lesse are ; 
But let me heare for aie in peace remaine, 
Or streightway on that last long voiage 

fare, 
That nothing may my present hope em- 
pare.' 
' That may not be,' (said he) ' ne maist 

thou yitt 
Forgoe that royal maides bequeathed care. 
Who did her cause into thy hand committ. 
Till from her cursed foe thou have her 
freely quitt.' 



* Then shall I soone,' (quoth he) * so God 
me grace, 
Abett that virgins cause disconsolate, 
And shortly back returne uuto this place. 
To walketliis way in Pilgrims poore estate. 
But now aread, old father, why of late 
Didst thou behight me borne of English 

blood , 
Whom all a Faeries sonne doen nomi- 
nate?' 
* That word shall I,' (said he) ' avouchen 

good, 
Sith to thee is unknowne the cradle of thy 
brood. 



* For, well I wote, thou springst from 
ancient race 



Of Saxon kinges, that have with mightie 

hand. 
And many bloody battailes fought in face. 
High reard their royall throne in Britans 

land, 
And vanquisht them, unable to withstand : 
From thence a Faery thee unweeting reft. 
There as thou slepst in tender swadling 

band. 
And her base Elfin brood there for thee 

left: 
Such, men do Chaungelings call, so 

chaung'd by Faeries theft. 



' Thence she thee brought into this 

Faery lond, 
And in an heaped furrow did thee hyde ; 
Where thee a Ploughman all unweeting 

fond, 
As he his toylesome teme that way did 

guyde, 
And brought thee up in ploughmans state 

to byde. 
Whereof Georgos he thee gave to name ; 
Till prickt with courage, and thy forces 

pryde. 
To Faery court thou cam'st to seek for 

fame. 
And prove thy puissant armes, as seemes 

thee best became.' 



' O holy Sire ! ' (quoth he) * how shall I 

quight 
The many favours I with thee have fownd, 
That hast my name and nation redd aright, 
And taught the way that does to heaven 

bovvnd ! ' 
This saide, ado wne he looked to the grownd 
To have returnd ; but dazed were his eyne 
Through passing brightnes, which did 

quite confound 
His feeble sence, and too exceeding shyne. 
So darke are earthly thinges compard to 

things divine. 



At last, whenas himselfe he gan to fynd. 
To Una back he cast him to retyre, 
Who him awaited still with pensive mynd. 
Great thankes, and goodly meed, to that 

good syre 
He thens departing gave for his paynes 

byre : 
So came to IJna, who him joyd to see ; 
And, after litle rest, gan him desyre 
Of her adventure mynd full for to bee 
So leave they take of Caelia and her 

daughters three. 



CANTO XI. 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



CANTO XI. 

The knight ^^•ith that old Dragon fights 

Two days incessanth- : 
The third "him overthrowes, and gayns 

Most glorious victory. 



.from hand of living 
Mowre of many a 



layed 



High time now gan it wex for Una fayre 
To thinke of tliose lier captive Parents 

deare, 
And tiieir forwasted kingdom to repayre : 
Whereto whenas they now approched 

neare, 
AVith hartie wordes her knight she gan to 

cheare, 
And in her modest maner thus bespake : 
' Deare knight, as deare as ever knight 

was deare, 
That all these sorrowes suffer for my sake, 
High heven behold the tedious toyle ye for 

me take ! 

II. 
' Now are we come unto my native 

soyle. 
And to the place where all our perilles 

dwell ; 
Here hauntes that feend, and does his 

dayly spoyle ; 
Therefore, henceforth, bee at your keep- 
ing well, 
And ever ready for your foeman fell : 
The sparke of noble corage now awake, 
And strive your excellent selfe to excell : 
That shall ye evermore renowmed make 
Ibove all knights on earth, that batteill 

undertake.' 



And pointing forth, 'Lo! yonder is,' 

(said she) 
'The brasen towre, in which my parents 

deare 
For dread of that huge feend emprisond 

be; 
Whom I from far see on the wall es appeare, 
Whose sight my feeble soule doth greatly 

cheare : 
And on the top of all I do espye 
The watchman wayting tydings glad to 

heare ; 
That, (O my Parents !) might I happily 
Unto you bring, to ease you of your 

misery ! ' 

IV. 

With that they heard a roaring hideous 
so wild, 
*rhat all the ay re with terror filled wyde, 



And seemd uneath to shake the stedfast 

ground. 
Eftsoones that dreadful Dragon they 

espyde. 
Where stretcht he lay upon the sunny side 
Of a great hill, himself e like a great hill : 
But, all so soone as he from far descry de 
Those glistring amies that heven with 

light did fill. 
He rousd himselfe full blyth, and hastned 

them untill. 



Then badd the knight his Lady yede 

aloof. 
And to an hill herselfe withdraw asyde ; 
From whence she might behold that 

battailles proof, 
And eke be safe from daunger far de- 

scrj'de. 
She him obayd, and turnd a little wyde. — 
Now, O thou sacred Muse! most learned 

Dame. 
Fayre ympe of Phoebus and his aged 

bryde, 
The Nourse of time and everlasting fame. 
That warlike handes ennoblest with im- 

mortall name: 



O ! gently come into my feeble brest ; 
Come gently, but not with that mightie 

rage. 
Wherewith the martiall troupes thou doest 

infest. 
And hartes of great Heroes doest enrage, 
That nought their kindled corage may 

aswage : 
Soone as thy dreadfull trompe begins to 

sownd, 
The God of warre with his fiers equipage 
Thou doest awake, sleepe never he so 

sownd ; 
And scared nations doest with horror 

Sterne astownd. 



Fayre Goddesse, lay that furious fitt 

asyde. 
Till I of warres and bloody Mars doe sing, 
And Bryton fieldes with Sarazin blood 

bedyde, 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



ry Queene and Paynim 

.r horror heven and earth 

of labour long, and endlesse 
prayse : 
lOw a while lett downe that haughtie 
string, 
And to my tunes thy second tenor rayse, 
That I this man of God his godly ariues 
may blaze. 

^ VIII. 

By this, the dreadful Beast drew nigh 

to hand, 
Halfe flying and halfe footing in his haste, 
That with his largenesse measured much 

land. 
And made wide shadow under his huge 

waste, 
As mountaine doth the valley overcaste. 
"^pproching nigh, he reared high afore 
His body monstrous, horrible, and vaste ; 
Which, to increase his wondrous greatnes 

more, 
Was swoln with wrath and poyson, and 

with bloody gore ; 

rx. 

And over all with braseu scales was 

armd. 
Like plated cote of Steele, so couched 

neare 
That nought mote perce; ne might his 

corse bee harmd 
With dint of swerd, nor push of pointed 

speare : 
Which as an Eagle, seeing pray appeare, 
His aery plumes doth rouze, full rudely 

(light ; 
So shaked he, that horror was to heare: 
For as the clashing of an Armor bright. 
Such noyse his rouzed scales did send unto 

the knight. 

X. 

His flaggy winges, when forth he did 

display. 
Were like two sayles, in which the hollow 

wynd 
Is gathered full, and worketh speedy 

way: 
And eke the pennes, that did his pineons 

bynd, 
Were like mayne-yardes with flying can- 
vas lynd ; 
With which whenas him list the ayre to 

beat. 
And there by force unwonted passage 

fynd. 
The cloudes before him fledd for terror 

great, 



And all the hevens stood still amazed I 
with his threat. 



His huge long tayle, wownd up in 

hundred foldes, 
Does overspred his long bras-scaly back. 
Whose wreathed boughtes when ever he 

unfoldes. 
And thick entangled knots adown does 

slack, 
Bespotted as with shieldes of red and 

blacke, 
It sweepeth all the land behind him farre. 
And of three furlongs does but litle 

lacke ; 
And at the point two stinges in fixed 

arre. 
Both deadly sharp, that sharpest Steele 

exceeden farre. 



But stinges and sharpest Steele did far 

exceed 
The sharpnesse of his cruel rending 

clawes : 
Dead was it sure, as sure as death in deed. 
What ever thing does touch his ravenous 

pawes, 
Or what within his reach he ever drawes. 
But his most hideous head my tongue to 

tell 
Does tremble; for his deepe devouring 

jawes 
Wyde gaped, like the griesly mouth of 

hell. 
Through which into his darke abysse all I 

ravin fell. 

XIII. 

And, that more wondrous was, in either 

jaw 
Three ranckes of yron teeth enraunged 

were. 
In which yett trickling blood, and gob- 
bets raw. 
Of late devoured bodies did appeare. 
That sight therof bredd cold congealed 

f eare ; 
Which to increase, and all atonce to kill, 
A cloud of smoothering smoke, and sul- 

phure seare. 
Out of his stinking gorge forth steemed 

still. 
That all the ayre about with smoke and 

stench did fill. 



His blazing eyes, like two bright shin- 
ing shieldes, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



89 



Did burne with wrath, and sparkled living 

f yre : 
As two broad Beacons, sett in open fieldes, 
Send forth their flames far off to every 

shy re, 
And warning give that enimies conspyre 
With fire and sword the region to invade : 
So flam'd his eyne with rage and raucor- 

ons yre ; 
Bnt far within, as in a hollow glade, 
Those glaring lanipes were sett that made 

a dreadfull shade. 



So dreadfully he towardes him did pas, 
Forelifting up a-loft his speckled brest, 
And oftenbounding on the brused gras. 
As for great joyance of his uewcome 

guest. 
Eftsooues he gan advance his haughty 

crest, 
As chauffed Bore his bristles doth up- 

reare ; 
And shoke his scales to battaile ready 

drest. 
That made the Redcrosse knight nigh 

quake for feare, 
As bidding bold defyaunce to his foeman 

neare. 



The knight gan fayrely couch his steady 

speare. 
And fiersely ran at him with rigorous 

might : 
The pointed Steele, arriving rudely theare. 
His harder hyde would nether perce nor 

bight. 
But, glauncing by, foorth passed forward 

right. 
Yet sore amoved with so puissaunt push, 
Tlie wrathfull beast about him turned 

light, 
And him so rudely, passing by, did brush 
With his long tayle, that horse and man 

to ground did rush. 

XVII. 

Both horse and man up lightly rose 

againe, 
And fresh encounter towardes him ad- 

drest ; 
But th' ydle stroke yet backe recoyld in 

vaine. 
And found no place his deadly point to 

rest. 
Exceeding rage enflam'd the furious 

Beast, 
To be avenged of so great despight ; 
For never felt his imperceable brest 



So wondrous force from hand of living 

wight ; 
Yet had he prov'd the powre of many a 

puissant knight. 



Then, with his waving wings displayed 

wyde, 
Himselfe up high he lifted from the 

ground. 
And with strong flight did forcibly divyde 
The yielding ayre, which nigh too feeble 

found 
Her flitting parts, and element unsound. 
To beare so great a weight : he, cutting 

way 
With his broad sayles, about him soared 

round ; 
At last, low stouping with unweldysway, 
Suatcht up both horse and man, to beare 

them quite away. 



Long he them bore above the subject 

plaine. 
So far as Ewghen bow a shaft may send. 
Till struggling strong did him at last con- 

straiue 
To let them do^vne before his flightes end : 
As hagard hauke, presuming to contend 
With hardy fowle above hishable might. 
His wearie pounces all in value doth 

spend 
To trusse the pray too heavy for his 

Hight ; 
Which, comming down to ground, does 

free it selfe by fight. 



He so disseized of his gryping grosse. 
The knight his thrillant speare againe 

assayd 
In his bras-plated body to embosse, 
And three mens strength unto the stroake 

he layd ; 
Wherewith the stiffe beame quaked as 

affrayd. 
And glauncing from his scaly necke did 

glyde 
Close under his left wing, then broad dis- 

playd: 
The percing Steele there wrought a wound 

full wyde, 
That with the uncouth smart the IMonster 

lowdly cryde. 



He cryde, as raging seas are wont to 
rore 



90 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Wheu wintry storme his wrathful wreck 

does threat ; 
The rolling billowes beate the ragged 

shore, 
As they the earth would shoulder from 

her seat ; 
And greedy gulfe does gape, as he would 

eat 
His neighbour element in his revenge : 
Then gin the blustring brethren boldly 

threat 
To move the world from off his stedfast 

henge, 
And boystrous battaile make, each other 

to avenge. 

XXII. 

The steely head stuck fast still in his 
flesh, 
Till with his cruell clawes he snatcht the 

wood. 
And quite a sunder broke. Forth flowed 

fresh 
A gushing river of blacke gory blood. 
That drowned all the land whereon he 

stood ; 
The streame -thereof would drive a water- 
mill: 
Trebly augmented was his furious mood 
With bitter sence of his deepe I'ooted ill, 
That flames of fire he threw forth from 
his large nosethril. 

XXIII. 

His hideous tayle then hurled he about. 
And therewith all enwrapt the nimble 

thyes 
Of his froth-fomy steed, whose courage 

stout 
Striving to loose the knott that fast him 

tyes, 
Himselfe in streighter bandes too rash 

iraplyes. 
That to the ground he is perforce con- 

straynd 
To throw his ryder; who can quickly 

ryse 
From off the earth, with durty blood dis- 

taynd, 
For that reprochfull fall right fowly he 

disdaynd ; 

XXIV. 

And fercely tooke his trenchand blade 

in hand, 
With which he stroke so furious and so 

fell. 
That nothing seemd the puissaunce could 

withstand : 
Upon his crest the hardned yron fell. 
But his more hardned crest was armd so 

well, 



That deeper dint therein it would not 

make ; 
Yet so extremely did the buffe him quell. 
That from thenceforth he shund the like 

to take, 
But wheu he saw them come he did them 

still forsake. 



The knight was wroth to see his stroke 
beguyld, 

And smot againe with more outrageous 
might ; 

But backe againe the sparcling Steele re- 
coy Id, 

And left not any marke where it did light, 

As if in Adamant rocke it had beene pight. 

The beast, impatient of his smarting 
wound 

And of so fierce and forcible despight, 

Thought with his winges to stye above 
the ground ; 

But his late wounded wing unserviceable 
found. 

XXVI. 

Then full of griefe and anguish vehe- 
ment. 
He lowdly brayd, that like was never 

heard ; 
And from his wide devouring oven sent 
A flake of fire, that flashing in his 

beard 
Him all amazd, and almost made afeard: 
The scorching flame sore swinged all his 

face, 
And through his armour all his body 

seard , 
That he could not endure so cruell cace, 
But thought his armes to leave, and hel- 
met to unlace. 

XXVII. 

Not that great Champion of the antique 

world. 
Whom famous Poetes verse so much doth 

vaunt. 
And hath for twelve huge labours high 

extold, 
So many furies and sharpe fits did 

haunt, 
When him the poysoned garment did en- 

chaunt, 
When Centaures blood and bloody verses 

charmd ; 
As did this knight twelve thousand dolours 

daunt. 
Whom fyrie Steele now burnt, that erst 

him armd ; 
That erst him goodly armd, now most of 

all him harmd. 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



91 



XXVIII. 

Faynt, wearie, sore, emboyled, grieved, 
brent, 

With heat, toyle, wounds, armes, smart, 
and inward fire, 

That never man such mischiefes did tor- 
ment: 

Death better were ; death did he oft de- 
sire, 

But death will never come when needes 
require. 

Whom so dismayd when that his foe be- 
held. 

He cast to suffer him no more respire. 

But gan his st^urdy sterne about to weld, 

And him so strongly stroke, that to the 
ground him feld. 

XXIX, 

It fortuned, (as fayre it then befell) 
Behynd his backe, unweeting, where he 
> stood. 

Of auncient time there was a springing 

well, 
From which fast trickled forth a silver 

flood, 
Full of great vertues, and for med'ciue 

good : 
Whylome, before that cursed Dragon got 
That happy land, and all with innocent 

blood 
Defyld those sacred waves, it rightly hot 
The well of life, ne yet his vertues had 

forgot : 

XXX. 

For unto life the dead it could restore, 
And guilt of sin full crimes cleane wash 

away; 
Those that with sickuesse were infected 

sore 
It could recure ; and aged long decay 
Renew, as one were borne that very day. 
Both Silo this, and Jordan, did excell, 
And th' English Bath, and eke the German 

Span ; 
Ne can Cephise, nor Hebrus, match this 

well: 
Into the same the knight back over- 

throwen fell. 

XXXI. 

Now gan the golden Phoebus for to 

ftleepe 
His fierie face in billowes of the west. 
And his faint steedes watred in Ocean 

deepe. 
Whiles from their journall labours they 

did rest ; 
"VVTien that infernall Monster, having kest 
His weari3 foe into that living well, 



Gan high advaunce his broad discoloured 

brest 
Above his wonted pitch, with countenance 

fell. 
And clapt his yron wings as victor he did 

dwell. 

XXXII. 

Which when his pensive Lady saw from 

farre. 
Great woe and sorrow did her soule assay, 
As weening that the sad end of the warre ; 
And gan to highest God entirely pray 
That feared chaunce from her to turne 

away : 
With folded hands, and knees full lowly 

bent. 
All night shee watcht, ne once adowne 

would lay 
Her dainty limbs in her sad dreriment. 
But praying still did wake, and waking 

did lament. 



The morrow next gan earely to appears, 
That Xitan, rose to runne his daily race; 
But earely, ere the morrow next gan rears 
Out of the sea faire Titans deawy face. 
Up rose the gentle virgin from her place, 
And looked all about, if she might spy 
Her loved knight to move his manly pace ; 
For she had great doubt of his safety, 
Since late she saw him fall before his 

enimy. 
-^ xxxiv. 

At last she saw where he upstarted 

brave 
Out of the well, wherein he drenched 

lay: 
As Eagle, fresh out of the ocean wave. 
Where he hath lefte his plumes all hory 

gray. 
And deckt himselfe with fethers youthly 

gay, 
Like Eyas hauke up mounts unto the 

skies. 
His newly-budded pineons to assay. 
And marveiles at himselfe stil as he flies : 
So new this new-borne knight to battell 

new did rise. 

XXXV. 

Whom when the damned feend so fresh 
did spy, 
' No wonder if he wondred at the sight. 
And doubted whether his late enimy 
It were, or other new supplied knight. 
He now, to prove his late-renewed might, 
High brandishing his bright deaw-burn- 

ing blade. 
Upon his crested scalp so sore did smite, 



92 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



That to the scull a yawning wound it 

made: 
The deadly dint his dulled sences all dis- 

maid. 



I wote not whether the revenging Steele 
Were hardned with that holy water dew 
Wherein he fell, or sharper edge did feele, 
Or his baptized hands now greater grew, 
Or other secret vertue did ensew ; 
Els never could the force of fleshly arme, 
Ne molten mettall, in his blood embrew ; 
For till that stownd could never wight 

him harnie 
By subtilty, nor slight, nor might, nor 

mighty charme. 

XXXVII. 

The cruell wound enraged him so sore, 
That loud he yelled for exceeding paine ; 
As hundred ramping Lions seemd to rore. 
Whom ravenous hunger did thereto con- 

straine : 
Then gan he tosse aloft his stretched 

traine. 
And therewith scourge the buxome aire 

so sore. 
That to his force to yielden it was faine ; 
Ne ought his sturdy strokes might stand 

afore, 
That high trees overthrew, and rocks in 

peeces tore. 

XXXVIII. 

The same advauncing high above his 

head. 
With sharpe intended sting so rude him 

smott. 
That to the earth him drove, as stricken 

dead ; 
Ne living wight would have him life be- 

hott : 
The mortall sting his angiy needle shott 
Quite through his shield, and in his 

shoulder seasd, 
Where fast it stucke, ne would thereout 

be gott : 
The griefe thereof him wondrous sore 

diseasd, 
Ne might his rancling paine with patience 

be appeasd. 

XXXIX. 

But yet, more mindfull of his honour 

deare 
Then of the grievous smart which him did 

wring, 
From loathed soile he can him liglitly 

reare, 



And strove to loose the far infixed sting: 
Which when in vaine he tryde with strug- 

geling, 
Inflam'd with wrath, his raging blade he 

hefte, 
And strooke so strongly, that the knotty 

string 
Of his huge taile he quite a sonder clefte ; 
Five joints thereof he hewd, and but the 

stump him lefte. 



Hart cannot thinke what outrage and 
what cries, 

With fowle enfouldred smoake and flash- 
ing fire. 

The hell-bred beast threw forth unto the 
skies, 

That all was covered with darknesse dire : 

Then, fraught with rancour and engorged 

He cast at once him'to avenge for all; 
And, gathering up himselfe out of the 

mire 
AVith his uneven wings, did fiercely fall 
Upon his sunne-bright shield, and grypt it 

fast withall. 



Much was the man encombred with his 

hold. 
In feare to lose his weapon in his paw, 
Ne w ist yett how his talaunts to unfold ; 
Nor ha rder was from Cerberus greedy jaw 
To pliicke. a bone, then from his cruell 

claw 
To reave, l.y strength the griped gage 

away : 
Thrise he assayd it from his foote to draw, 
And thrise in vaine to draw it did assay ; 
It I.fOoted rought to thinke to robbe him 

of his pray. 

XLII. 

Thtf vhen he saw no pov) er might pre- 

va'V\, 
His trust;^ sword he cald to his la^t aid, 
AMierewith he fiersly did his- foe assaile, 
And double blewcs about him stoutly laid, 
That glauncing fire out of the yronVbiid, 
As sparkles from the Andvile use to lly, 
When heavy hammers on the wedge are 

swaid : 
Therewith at last he forst him to unty 
One of liis grasping feete, him to defend 

thereby. 

XLIII. 

The other foote, fast fixed on his 
shield, 



CANTO XI.-] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



93 



Whenas no strength nor stroks mote him 

coustraine 
To loose, ne yet the warlike pledge to 

yield, 
He smott thereat with all his might and 

maine. 
That nought so wondrous puissaunce 

might sustaine : 
Upon the joint the lucky Steele did light, 
And made such way that hewd it quite in 

twaine ; 
The paw yett missed not his minisht 

might, 
But hong still on the shield, as it at first 

was pight. 

XLIV. 

For griefe thereof and divelish despight, 
From his infernall fouruace forth he threw 
Huge flames that dimmed all the hevens 

light, 
Enrold in duskish smoke and brimstone 

blew : 
As burning Aetna from his boyling stew 
Doth belch out flames, and rockes in 

peeces broke, 



Enwrapt in coleblacke clowds and filthy 

smoke, 
That al the laud with stench and heven 

with horror choke. 

XLV. 

The heate whereof, and harmefull pesti- 
lence, 
80 sore him noyd, that forst him to re- 
tire 
A little backeward for his best defence. 
To save his body from the scorching fire, 
Which he from hellish entrailes did ex- 
pire. 
It chaunst, (eternall God that chaunce 

did guide) 
As he recoiled backeward, in the mire 
His nigh foreweried feeble feet did slide. 
And downe he fell, with dread of shame 
sore terrifide. 

XLVI, 

There grew a goodly tree him faire be- 
side. 
liOaden with fruit and apples rosy redd. 
As they in pure vermilion had been dide, 
Whereof great vertues over-all were redd ; 
For happy life to all which thereon fedd, 
And life eke everlasting did befall : 
Great God it planted hi that blessed stedd 
With his Almighty hand, and did it call 
The tree of life, the crime of our first 
fathers fall. 



In all the world like was not to be fownd , 
Save in that soile, where all good things 

did grow, 
And freely sprong out of the fruitfull 

grownd. 
As incorrupted Nature did them sow, 
Till that dredd Dragon all did overthrow. 
Another like faire tree eke grew thereby, 
Whereof whoso did eat, eftsoones did 

know 
Both good and ill. O mournfuU mernory ! 
That tree through one mans fault hath 

doen us all to dy. 

XLVIII. 

From that first tree forth flowd, as from 

a well, 
A trickling streame of Balme, most sov- 

eraine 
And dainty deare, which on the ground 

still fell, 
And overflowed all the fertile plaine. 
As it had deawed bene with timely raine : 
Life and long health that gracious oint- 
ment gave. 
And deadly wounds could heale, and reare 

againe 
The sencelesse corse appointed for the 

grave : 
Into that same he fell, which did from 

death him save. 



For nigh thereto the ever damned Beast 
Durst not approch, for he was deadly 

made. 
And al that life preserved did detest ; 
Yet he it oft adventur'd to invade. 
By this thedrouping day-light gan to fade, 
And yield his rowme to sad succeeding 

night. 
Who with her sable mantle gan to shade 
The face of earth and wayes of living 

wight, 
And high her burning torch set up in 

heaven bright. 



When gentle Una saw the second fall 
Of her deare knight, who, wea^y of long 

fight 
And faint through losse of blood, moov'd 

not at all. 
But lay, as in a dreame of deepe delight, 
Besmeard with pretious Balme, whose 

vertuous might 
Did heale his woundes, and scorching heat 

alay ; 



94 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Againe she stricken was with sore affright, 
And for his safetie gan devoutly pray, 
And watch the noyous night, and wait for 
joyous day. 



The joyous day gan early to appeare; 
And fayre Aurora from the deawy bed 
Of aged Tithoue gan herselfe to reare 
With rosy cheekes, for shame as blushing 

red : 
Her golden locks for hast were loosely 

shed 
About her eares, when Una her did marke 
Clymbe to her charet, all with flowers 

spred. 
From heven high to chace the chearelesse 

darke ; 
With mery note her lowd salutes the 

mounting larke. 



Then freshly up arose the doughty 

knight. 
All healed of his hurts and woundes wide, 
And did himselfe to battaile ready dight ; 
Whose early foe awaiting him beside 
To have devourd, so soone as day he spyde. 
When now he saw himselfe so freshly 

reare, 
As if late fight had nought him damnifyde. 
He woxe dismaid, and gan his fate to 

f eare : 
Nathlesse with wonted rage he him ad- 

vaunced neare. 



And in his first encounter, gaping wyde, 
He thought attonce him to have swallowd 

quight, 
And rusht upon him with outragious 

pryde ; 
Who him rencountring fierce, as hauke in 

flight, 



Perforce rebutted backe. The weapon 

bright. 
Taking advantage of his open jaw. 
Ran through his mouth with so importune 

might, 
That deepe emperst his darksom hollow 

maw. 
And, back retyrd, his life blood forth 

with all did draw. 

LIV. 

So downe he fell, and forth his life did 

breath. 
That vanisht into smoke and cloudes 

swift; 
So downe he fell, that th' earth him under- 
neath 
Did grone, as feeble so great load to lift ; 
So downe he fell, as an huge rocky clift, 
Whose false foundacion waves have washt 

away, 
With dreadfull poyse is from the mayne- 

land rift, 
And rolling downe great Neptune doth 

dismay : 
So downe he fell, and like an heaped 

mountaine lay. 

LV, 

The knight him selfe even trembled at 

his fall, 
So huge and horrible a masse it seemd ; 
And his deare Lady, that beheld it all, 
Durst not approch for dread which she 

raisdeemd ; 
But yet at last, whenas the direfull feend 
She saw not stirre, off-shaking value 

affright 
She nigher drew, and saw that joyous 

end: 
Then God she praysd, and thankt her 

faithfull knight, 
That had atchievde so great a conquest 

by his might. 



CANTO xn. 

Fayre Una to the Eedcrosse Knight 

Betrouthed is with J03' : 
Though false Diiessa, it to barre, 

Her false sleightes doe imploy. 



Behold! I see the haven nigh at 

hand 
To which I meane my wearie course to 

bend ; 
Vere the maine shete, and beare up with 

the land, 



The which afore is fayrly to be kend, 
And seemeth safe from storms that may 

offend ; 
There this fayre virgin wearie of her 

way 
Must landed bee, now at her journeyes 

end; 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



95 



There eke my feeble barke a while may 

stay, 
Till mery wynd and weather call her 

thence away. 



Scarsely had Phoebus in the glooming 

East 
Yett harnessed his fyrie-footed teeme, 
Ne reard above the earth his flaming 

creast, 
When the last deadly smoke aloft did 

steerae, 
That signe of last outbreathed life did 

seeme 
Unto the watchman on the castle-wall ; 
Who thereby dead that balefull Beast did 

deeme, 
And to his Lord and Lady lowd gan call, 
To tell how he had seene the Dragons 

fatall fall. 



Uprose with hasty joy, and feeble speed, 
That aged Syre, the Lord of all that land, 
And looked forth, to weet if trew indeed 
Those tydinges were, as he did under- 
stand : 
Which whenas trew by tryall he out 

fond. 
He badd to open wyde his brasen gate. 
Which long time had beene shut, and out 

of bond 
Proclaymed joy and peace through all his 

state ; 
For dead now was their foe, which them 
forrayed late. 



Then gan triumphant Trompets sownd 

on hye, 
That ^ent to heven the ecchoed report 
Of their new joy, and happie victory 
Gainst him, that had them long opprest 

with tort, 
And fast imprisoned in sieged fort. 
Then all the people, as in solemne feast, 
To him assembled with one full consort, 
Rejoycing at the fall of that great beast. 
From whose eternall bondage now they 

were releast. 



Forth came that auncient Lord, and 

aged Queene, 
Arayd in antique robes downe to the 

growaid, 
And sad habiliments right well beseene : 
A noble crew about them waited rownd 



Of sage and sober peres, all gravely 

gownd ; 
Whom far before did march a goodly 

band 
Of tall young men, all liable amies to 

sownd ; 
But now they laurell braunches bore in 

hand. 
Glad signe of victory and peace in all 

their land. 



Unto that doughtie Conquerour they 

came, 
And him before themselves prostrating 

low, 
Their Lord and Patrone loud did him 

proclame, 
x\nd at his feet their lawrell boughes did 

throw. 
Soone after them, all dauncing on a row. 
The comely virgins came, with girlands 

dight, 
As fresh as flowres in medow greene doe 

grow 
When morning deaw upon their leaves 

doth light ; 
And in their handes sweet Timbrels all 

upheld on hight. 



And them before the fry of children 

yong 
Their wanton sportes and childish mirth 

did play. 
And to the Maydens sowoiding tymbrels 

song 
In well attuned notes a joyous lay. 
And made delightfull musick all the 

way. 
Until 1 they came where that faire virgin 

stood : 
As fayre Diana in fresh sommers day 
Beholdes her nymphes enraung'd in shady 

wood. 
Some wrestle, some do run, some bathe in 

christall flood. 



So she beheld those maydens meriment 
With chearefuU vew; who, when to her 

they came, 
Themselves to ground with gracious 

huniblesse bent, 
And her ador'd by honorable name, 
Lifting to heven her everlasting fame : 
Then on her head they sett a girlond 

greene. 
And crowned her twixt earnest and twixt 

game : 



96 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



Who, in her self-resemblance well be- 

seene, 
Did seeme, such as she was, a goodly 

maiden Queene. 



And after all the raskall many ran, 
Heaped together in rude rablement, 
To see the face of that victorious man, 
Whom all admired as from heaven sent, 
And gazd upon with gaping wonderment ; 
But when they came where that dead 

Dragon lay, 
Stretcht on the ground in monstrous large 

extent, 
The sight with ydle feare did them dis- 
may, 
Ne durst approch him nigh to touch, or 
once assay. 

X. 

Some feard, and fiedd ; some feard, and 

well it faynd ; 
One, that would wiser seeme then all the 

rest, 
Warnd him not touch, for yet perhaps 

remaynd 
Some lingring life within his hollow 

brest, 
Or in his wombe might lurke some hidden 

nest 
Of many Dragonettes, his fruitful! seede: 
Another saide, that in his eyes did rest 
Yet sparckling fyre, and badd thereof 

take heed ; 
Another said, he saw him move his eyes 

indeed. 

XI. 

One mother, wlienas her foolehardy 

chyld 
Did come too neare, and with his talants 

play, 
Halfe dead through feare, her litle babe 

revyld. 
And to her gossibs gan in counsell say ; 
' How can I tell, but that his talants may 
Yet scratch my sonne, or rend his tender 

hand ? ' 
So diversly them selves in vaine they 

fray; 
Whiles some more bold to measure him 

nigh stand, 
To prove how many acres he did spred of 

laud. 

XII. 

Thus flocked all the folke him rownd 

abont; 
The whiles that hoarie king, with all his 

traine. 
Being arrived where that champion stout 



After his foes defeasaunce did remahie, 
Him goodly greetes, and fayre does en- 

tertayne 
With princely gifts of yvory and gold. 
And thousand thankes him yeeldes for all . 

his paine. 
Then when his daughter deare he does 

behold. 
Her dearely doth imbrace, and kisseth 

manifold. 

XIII. 

And after to his Pallace he them 

bringes. 
With shaumes, and trompets, and with 

Clarions sweet ; 
And all the way the joyous people singes, 
And with their garments strowes the 

paved street; 
Whence mounting up, they fynd purvey- 

aunce meet 
Of all, that royall Princes court became ; 
And all the tloore was underneath their 

feet 
Bespredd with costly scarlott of great 

name. 
On which they lowly sitt, and fitting pur- 
pose frame. 

XIV. 

What needes me tell their feast and 

goodly guize. 
In which was nothing riotous nor vaine ? 
What needes of dainty dishes to devize. 
Of comely services, or courtly trayne? 
My narrow leaves cannot in them con- 

tayne 
The large discourse of roiall Princes 

state. 
Yet was their manner then but bare and 

playne ; 
For th' antique world excesse and pryde 

did hate: 
Such proud luxurious pompe is swollen 

up but late. 

XV. 

Then, when with meates and drinkes of 

every kinde 
Their fervent appetites they quenched 

had. 
That auncient Lord gan fit occasion 

finde. 
Of straunge adventures, and of perils 

sad 
Which in his travell him befallen had, 
For to demaund of his renowmed guest: 
Who then with utt' ranee grave, and 

count 'nance sad, 
From poynt to poynt, as is before ex- 

prest, 
Discourst his voyage long, according his 

request. 



TilE FAERIL QUEENE. 



97 



vireat piosuure, rnixc vnth pittiful r*? 
gard, 
That godly King and Queene did pas- 
sionate, 
Whyles they his pittifull adventures 

heard ; 
That oft they did lament his lucklesse 

state, 
And often blame the too importune fate 
That heapd on him so many wrathfull 

wreakes ; 
For never gentle knight, as he of late, 
So tossed was in fortunes cruell f reakes : 
And all the while salt teares bedeawd 
the hearers cheaks. 



Then sayd that royall Pere in sober 

wise ; 
* Deare Sonne, great beene the evils which 

ye bore 
From first to last in your late enterprise, 
That I note whether praise or pitty more; 
For never living man, I weene, so sore 
In sea of deadly daungers was distrest: 
But since now safe ye seised have the 

shore. 
And well arrived are, (high God be 

blest!) 
Let us devize of ease and everlasting 

rest.' 



* Ah dearest Lord ! ' said then that 

doughty knight, 
' Of ease or rest I may not yet devize ; 
For by the faith which I to armes have 

plight, 
I bownden am straight after this emprize, 
As that your daughter can ye well advize, 
Backe to retourne to that great Faery 

Queene, 
And her to serve sixe yeares in warlike 

wize. 
Gainst that proud Paynim king that 

works her teene : 
Therefore I ought crave pardon, till I 

there have beene.' 



' Unhappy falls that hard necessity,' 
(Quoth he) ' the troubler of my happy 

peace, 
And vowed foe of my felicity ; 
Ne I against the same can justly preace : 
But since that band ye cannot now re- 
lease, 
Nor doen undo, (for vowes may not be 
vayne) 



Scone as the terme of those six yeares 
shall cease, 

ie then shall hither backe retourne 
agayne. 

The marriage to accomplish vowd be- 
twixt you twayn. 

XX. 

' Which, for my part, I covet to per- 

forrae 
In sort as through the world I did pro- 

clame. 
That who-so kild that monster most 

deform e. 
And him in hardy battayle overcame, 
Should have mine onely daughter to his 

Dame, 
And of my kingdome heyre apparaunt 

bee: 
Therefore, since now to thee perteynes 

the same 
By dew desert of noble chevalree, 
Both daughter and eke kingdome lo! I 

yield to thee.' 



'Then forth he called that his daughter 

fay re. 
The fairest Un', his onely daughter deare, 
His onely daughter and his only hayre ; 
Who forth proceeding with sad sober 

cheare. 
As bright as doth the morning starre 

appeare 
Out of the East, with flaming lockes 

bedight, 
To tell that dawning day is drawing 

neare. 
And to the world does bring long-vished 

light: 
So faire and fresh that Lady shewd L'^r- 

selfe in sight. 



So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in 

May; 
For she had layd her mournefull stole 

aside, 
And widow-like sad wimple throwne 

away. 
Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did 

hide, 
Whiles on her wearie journey she did 

ride ; 
And on her now a garment she did weare 
All lily white, withoutten spot or pride, 
That seemd like silke and silver woven 

neare ; 
But neither silke nor silver therein did 

appeare. 



98 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[noK I. 



XXIII. 

The blazing brightnesse of her beauties 

beame, 
And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 
To tell were as to strive against the 

streame : 
My ragged rimes are all too rude and 

bace 
Her heavenly lineaments for to enehace. 
Ne wonder; for her o^^Ti deare loved 

knight, 
All were she daily with himselfe in place. 
Did wonder much at her celestial sight : 
Oft had he seene her faire, but never so 

faire dight, 

XXIV. 

So fairely dight when she in presence 
came, 

She to her Syre made humble reverence, 

And bowed low, that her right well be- 
came, 

And added grace unto her excellence : 

Who with great wisedome and grave elo- 
quence 

Thus gan to say — But, eare he thus had 
sayd, 

With flying speede, and seeming great 
pretence, 

Came running in, much like a man dis- 
may d, 

A Messenger with letters, which his 
message sayd. 

XXV. 

All in the open hall amazed stood 
At suddeinnesse of that unwary sight. 
And wondred at his breathlesse hasty 

, mood : 
But he for nought would stay his passage 

right, 
Tin fast before the king he did alight ; 
Where falling flat great humblesse he did 

make, 
And kist the ground whereon his foot was 

pight ; 
Then to his handes that writt he did 

betake, 
Which he diclosing read thus, as the paper 



* To thee, most mighty king of Eden 

fay re. 
Her greeting sends in these sad lines 

addrest 
The wofull daughter and forsaken heyre 
Of tha: great T:rapprour of all the West; 
And 'ids thee be advized for tliebest, 
Er-.' th T t'lj davghter iinck, • '••'v 

band 



Of wedlocke, to that new unkno\'en 

guest : 
For he already plighted his right hand 
Unto another love, and to another land. 

XXVII. 

* To me, sad mayd, or rather widow sad. 
He was affyaunced long time before, 
And sacred pledges he both gave, and 

had. 
False erraunt knight, infamous, and for- 
swore ! 
Witnesse the burning Altars, which he 

swore, 
And guilty heavens of his bold perjury; 
Which though he hath polluted oft of 

yore, 
Yet I to them for judgement just doe fly 
And them conjure t' avenge this shame- 
full injury. 

xxvin. 

' Therefore, since mine he is, or free or 

bond. 
Or false or trew, or living or else dead, 
Withhold, O soverayne Prince! your 

hasty bond 
From knitting league with him, I you 

aread ; 
Ne weene my right with strength adowne 

to tread. 
Through weaknesse of my widowhed or 

woe; 
For truth is strong her rightfull cause to 

plead , 
And shall finde friends, if need requireth 

soe. 
So bids thee well to fare, Thy neither 

friend nor foe, Fidessa.' 



When he these bitter byting wordes had 

red, 
The tydings straunge did him abashed 

make, 
That still he sate long time astonished, 
As in great muse, ne word to creature 

spake. 
At last his solemn silence thus he brake, 
With doubtfuU eyes fast fixed on his 

guest : 
' Redoubted knight, that for myne only 

sake 
Thy life and honor late adventurest, 
Let nought be hid from me that ought to 

be exprest. 



XXX. 

^^ ''Mt moane t"';- — ■■'■ 
\f> threat 



and 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



99 



Throwue out from womanish impatient 
mynd ? 

What hevens? what altars? what en- 
raged heates, 

Here heaped up with termes of love un- 
kyud, 

My conscience cleare with guilty bands 
would bynd ? 

High God be witnesse that I guiltlesse 
ame; 

But if yourselfe, Sir knight, ye faulty 
fynd, 

Or wrapped be in loves of former Dame, 

With cryme doe not it cover, but disclose 
the same.' 

XXXI. 

To whom the Kedcrosse knight this 

answere sent: 
*My Lord, my king, be nought hereat 

dismayd, 
Till well ye wote by grave intendiment. 
What woman, and wherefore, doth me up- 

brayd 
With breach of love and loialty betrayd. 
It was in my mishaps, as hitherward 
I lately traveild, that unwares I strayd 
Out of my way, through perils straunge 

and hard. 
That day should faile me ere I had them 

all declard. 



* There did I find, or rather I was fownd 
Of this false woman that Fidessa higlit, 
Fidessa hight the falsest Dame on 

grownd, 
Most false Duessa, royall richly dight, 
That easy was t' inveigle weaker sight : 
Who by her wicked arts and wylie skill, 
Too false and strong for earthly skill or 

might, 
Unwares me wrought unto her wicked 

will. 
And to my foe betrayd when least I feared 



ill. 



XXXIII. 



Then stepped forth the goodly royall 

Mayd, 
And on the ground herselfe prostrating 

low. 
With sober countenance thus to him sayd : 
*0! pardon me, my soveraine Lord, to 

sheow 
The secret treasons, which of late I know 
To have bene wrought by that false sor- 

ceresse : 
Shee, onely she, it is, that earst did throw 
This gentle knight into so great distresse, 
That death him did awaite in daily 

wretchednesse. 



XXXIV. 

' And now it seemes, that she suborned 

hath 
This crafty messenger with letters vaine, 
To worke new woe and improvided scath, 
By breaking of the band betwixt us 

twaine ; 
Wherein she used hath the practicke 

paine 
Of this false footman, clokt with simple- 

uesse, 
Whome if ye please for to discover i)laiue, 
Ye shall him Archimago find, I ghesse. 
The falsest man alive : who tries, shall 

find no lesse.' 



The king was greatly moved at her 

speach ; 
And, all with suddein indignation fraight. 
Bad on that Messenger rude hands to 

reach. 
Eftsoones the Gard, which on his state did 

wait, 
Attacht that faytor false, and bound him 

strait : 
Who seeming sorely chauffed at his band, 
As chained beare whom cruell dogs doe 

bait, 
With ydle force did faine them to with- 
stand, 
And often semblaunce made to scape out 

of their hand. 



But they him layd full low in dungeon 

deepe, 
And bound him hand and foote with yron 

chains ; 
And with continual watch did warely 

keepe. 
Who then would thinke that -y bis subtile 

trains 
He could escape fowle dea'ii or deadly 

pains ? 
Thus, when that Princes wrMh wai paci- 

fide, 
He gan renew the late forbid-len bains, 
And to the knight his daughter deare he 

tyde 
With sacred rites and vowes for ever t 

abyde. 

XXXVII. 

His owne two hands the holy kuotts did 

knitt, 
That none but death for ev.ei- m. divide; 
His owne two hands, for svch a turne 

most fitt, 
The housling fire did kindle and provide, 



fL.of 



lOO 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book I. 



And holy water thereon sprinckled wide ; 
At which the bushy Teade a groome did 

light, 
And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide, 
Where it should not be quenched day nor 

night, 
For feare of evil fates, but burnen ever 

bright. 

XXXVIII. 

Then gan they spriuckle all the posts 

with wine. 
And made great feast to solemnize that 

day: 
They all perfumde with frankincense 

divine. 
And precious odours fetcht from far away, 
That all the house did sweat with great 

aray ; 
And all the while sweete Musicke did 

apply 
Her curious skill the warbling notes to 

To drive away the dull Melancholy^ 
The whiles one sung a song of love and 
jollity. 

XXXIX. 

During the which there was an heavenly 

noise 
Heard sownd through all the Pallace 

pleasantly, 
Like as it had bene many an Angels voice 
Singing before th' eternall majesty, 
In their trinall triplicities on hye ; 
Yett wist no creature whence that hevenly 

sweet 
Proceeded, yet each one felt secretly 
Himselfe thereby ref te of his sences meet, 
And ravished with rare impression in his 

sprite. 

XL. 

Great joy was made that day of young 
and old , 



And solemne feast proclaymd throughout 

the land. 
That their exceeding merth may not be 

told: 
Suffice it heare by signes to understand 
The usuall joyes at knitting of loves 

band. 
Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did 

hold. 
Possessed of his Ladies hart and hand ; 
And ever, when his eie did her behold, 
His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures 

manifold. 

XLI. 

Her joyous presence, and sweet com- 
pany. 

In full content he there did long enjoy ; 

Ne wicked envy, ne vile gealosy. 

His deai-e delights were hable to annoy : 

Yet, swimming in that sea of blissfull 
joy, 

He nought forgott how he whilome had 
sworne, 

In case he could that monstrous beast de- 
stroy, 

Unto his Faery Queene backe to retourne ; 

The which he shortly did, and Una left to 
mourne. 



Now, strike your sailes, yee jolly Mar- 
iners, 
For we be come unto a quiet rode, 
Where we must land some of our passen- 
gers. 
And light this weary vessell of her lode : 
Here she a while may make her safe abode, 
Till she repaired have her tackles spent. 
And wants supplide; And then againe 

abroad 
On the long voiage whereto she is bent: 
Well may she speede, and fairely finish 
her intent! 



\ 



THE SECOND BOOK 

OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

CONTATNING THE LEGEND OF SIR GUYON, OR OF TEMPERAUNCE. 



Right well I wote, most mighty Sov- 

eraine, 
That all this famous antique history 
Of some th' abouudance of an ydle braine 
Will judged be, and painted forgery, 
Eather then matter of just memory ; 
Sith none that breatheth living aire does 

know 
Where is that happy land of Faery, 
Wliieh I so much doe vaunt, yet no where 

show, 
But vouch antiquities, which no body can 

know. 

II. 

But let that man with better sence 

advize, 
That of the world least part to us is red; 
And daily how through hardy enterprize 
Many great Regions are discovered. 
Which to late age were never mentioned. 
Who ever heard of th' Indian Peru ? 
Or who in venturous vessell measured 
The Amazon huge river, now found trew ? 
Or fruitfullest Virginia who did ever 

vew? 



Yet all these were, when no man did 

them know. 
Yet have from wisest ages hidden beene ; 
And later times thinges more unknowne 

shall show. 
Why then should witlesse man so much 

misweene, 
That nothing is but that which he hath 

seene? 
What if within the Moones fayre shining 

spheare, 



What if in every other starre unseene 
Of other worldes he happily should heare, 
He wonder would much more; yet such 
to some appeare. 



Of faery lond yet if he more inquyre. 
By certein signes, here sett in sondrie 

place, 
He may it fynd ; ne let him then admyre. 
But yield his sence to bee too blunt and 

bace, 
Tliat no'te without an hound fine footing 

trace. 
And thou, O fayrest Princesse under sky! 
In this fayre mirrhour maist behold thy 

face. 
And thine ovme realmes in lond of Faery, 
And in tliis antique ymage thy great 

auncestry. 



The which O! pardon me thus to en- 
fold 
In covert vele, and wrap in shadowes 

light, 
That feeble eyes your glory may behold, 
Wniich ells could not endure those beames 

bright, 
But would bee dazled with exceeding 

light. 
O! pardon, and vouchsafe with patient 

eare 
The brave adventures of this faery 

knight. 
The good Sir Guyon, gratiously to heare ; 
I In whom great rule of Temp'raunce goodly 
I doth appeare. 

oi 



I02 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



JjOOjC II. 



CANTO I. 

Guyon, by Archimag-e abusd, 
The Redcrosse knight awaytes ; 

Fyndes Mordant and Auiavia slaine 
With pleasures poisoned baytes. 



That couDing Architect of cancred 
guyle, 
Whom Princes late displeasure left in 

bands, 
For falsed letters, and suborned wyle, 
Sooue as the Redcrosse knight he under- 
stands 
To beene departed out of Eden landes, 
To serve againe his so veraine Elfin Queene, 
His artes he moves, and out of caytives 

handes 
Himselfe he frees by secret meanes un- 

seene ; 
His shackles emptie lefte, himselfe es- 
caped cleene. 



And forth he fares, full of malicious 
raynd. 

To worken mischief e, and avenging woe, 

Where ever he that godly knight may 
fynd, 

His onely hart-sore, and his onely-foe; 

Sith Una now he algates must forgoe. 

Whom his victorious handes did earst 
restore 

To native crowne and kingdom late ygoe ; 

Where she enjoyes sure peace for ever- 
more. 

As wetherbeaten ship arryv'd on happie 
shore. 

III. 

Him therefore now the object of his 

spight 
And deadly food he makes : him to offend, 
By forged treason or by open fight, 
He seekes, of all his drifte the aymed 

end : 
Thereto his subtile engins he does bend, 
His practick witt and his fayre fyled 

tonge. 
With thousand other sleightes ; for well 

he kend 
His credit now in doubtfull ballaunce 

hong : 
For hardly could bee hurt who was already 

stong. 

IV. 

Still as he went he craftie stales did 
lay. 



With cunning traynes him to entrap un 

wares. 
And privy spyals plast in all his way, 
To weete what course he takes, and hoAV 

he fares. 
To ketch him at a vauntage in his ynares. 
But now so wise and wary was the knight 
By tryall of his former harmes and cai*es, 
That he descryde and shonned still his 

slight : 
The fish that once was caught new bait 

wil hardly byte. 



Nath'lesse th' Enchaunter would not 

spare his payne, 
In hope to win occasion to his will ; 
Which when he long awaited had in 

vayne. 
He chaungd his mynd from one to other 

ill; 
For to all good he enimy was still. 
Upon the way him fortuned to meete, 
Fayre marching underneath a shady 

hill, 
A goodly knight, all armd in harnesse 

meete. 
That from his head no place appeared 

to his feete. 



His carriage was full comely and up- 
right ; 
His countenance demure and temperate ; 
But yett so sterne and terrible in sight. 
That cheard his friendes, and did his foes 

amate : 
He was an Elfin borne of noble state 
And raickle worship in his native land ; 
Well could he tourney, and in lists debate, 
And knighthood tooke of good Sir Huous 

hand. 
When with king Oberon he came to Faery 
land. 

VII. 

Him als accompanyd upon the way 
A comely Palmer, clad in black attyre. 
Of rypest yeares, and heares all hoarie 

gray, 
That with a staffe his feeble steps did 
stire, 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



103 



Least his long way his aged limbes should 

tire : 
And, if by lookes one may the mind 

aread, 
He seemd to be a sage and sober syre ; 
And ever with slow pace the knight did 

lead, 
Who taught his trampling steed with 

equall steps to tread. 



Such whenas Archimago them did view, 
He weened well to worke some uncouth 

wyle : 
Eftsoones untwisting his deceiptf ull clew. 
He gan to weave a web of wicked guyle, 
And, with faire countenance and tlat- 

tring style 
To them approching, thus the knight 

bespake ; 
' Fayre sonne of Mars, that seeke with 

warlike spoyle. 
And great atchiev'ments, great your selfe 

to make, 
Vouchsafe to stay your steed for humble 

misers sake.' 



He stayd his steed for humble misers 

sake, 
And badd tell on the tenor of his playnt : 
Who feigning then in every limb to 

quake 
Through inward feare, and seeming pale 

and faynt, 
With piteous moue his percing speach gan 

paynt : 
* Deare Lady ! how shall I declare thy 

cace. 
Whom late I left in languorous con- 

straynt ? 
Would God ! thy selfe now present were 

in place 
To tell this ruef ull tale : thy sight could 

win thee grace. 



'Or rather would, O! would it so had 

chaunst, 
That you, most noble Sir, had present 

beene 
When that lewd rybauld, with vyle lust 

advaunst, 
Laid first his filthie hands on virgin 

cleene, 
To spoyle her dainty corps, so faire and 

sheene 
As on the earth, great mother of us all, 
With living eye more fayre was never 

seene 



Of chastity and honour virginall : 
Witnes, ye heavens, whom she in vaine 
to help did call.' 



' How may it be,' sayd then the kpight 

halfe wroth, 
' That knight should knighthood ever so 

have sheut? ' 
'None but that saw,' (quoth he) 'would 

weene for troth, 
How shamefully that Mayd he did tor- 
ment: 
Her looser golden lockes he rudely rent. 
And drew her on the ground ; and his 

sharpe sword 
Against her snowy brest he fiercely bent. 
And threatned death with many a bloodie 

word : 
Tounge hates to tell the rest that eye to 

see abhord.' 

XII. 

Therewith amoved from his sober 

mood, 
' And lives he yet,' (said he) 'that wrought 

this act ? 
And doen the heavens afford him vitall 

food ? ' 
'He lives,' (quoth he) 'and boasteth of 

the fact, 
Ne yet hath any knight his courage 

crackt.' 
'Where may that treachour then,' (sayd 

he) ' be found. 
Or by what meanes may I his footing 

tract ? ' 
' That shall I shew,' (sayd he) ' as sure as 

hound 
The stricken Deare doth chalenge by the 

bleeding wound.' 



He stayd not lenger talke, but with 

fierce yre 
And zealous haste away is quickly gone 
To seeke that knight, where him that 

crafty Squyre 
Supposd to be. They do arrive anone 
Where sate a gentle Lady all alone, 
With garments rent, and heare dis- 

cheveled. 
Wringing her handes, and making piteous 

mone : 
Her swollen eyes were much disfigured. 
And her faire face with teares was fowly 

blubbered. 



The knight, approching nigh, thus to 
her said; 



104 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



' Fayre Lady, through fowle sorrow ill 

bedight, 
Great pitty is to see you thus dismayd, 
And marre the blossom of your beauty 

bright : 
For-thy appease your griefe and heavy 

plight, 
And tell the cause of your conceived 

payne ; 
For, if he live that hath you doen de- 

spight, 
He shall you doe dew recompence agayne, 
Or els his wrong with greater puissance 

maintaine.' 

XV. 

Which when she heard, as in despight- 

full wise 
She wilfully her sorrow did augment. 
And offred hope of comfort did despise : 
Her golden lockes most cruelly she rent, 
And scratcht her face with ghastly dreri- 

ment; 
Ne would she speake, ne see, ne yet be 

scene, 
But hid her visage, and her head downe 

bent, 
Either for grievous shame, or for great 

teene, 
As if her hart with sorrow had transfixed 

beene : 

XVI. 

Till her that Squyre bespake : ' Madame, 

my liefe, 
For Gods deare love be not so wilfull 

bent. 
But doe vouchsafe now to receive reliefe, 
The which good fortune doth to you 

present. 
For what bootes it to weepe and to way- 

ment 
When ill is chaunst, but doth the ill 

increase, 
And the weake minde with double M'oe 

torment? ' 
When she her Squyre heard speake, she 

gan appease 
Her voluntarie paine, and feele some 

secret ease. 

XVII. 

Ef tsoone she said ; ' Ah ! gentle trustie 

Squyre, 
What comfort can I, wofuU wretch, con- 

ceave ? 
Or why should ever I henceforth desyre 
To see faire heavens face, and life not 

leave, 
Sith that false Traytour did my honour 

reave ? ' 
'False traytour certes,' (saide the Faerie 

knight) 



' I read the man, that ever would deceave 
A gentle Lady, or her wrong through 

might : 
Death were too little paine for such a 

fowle despight. 



' But now, fayre Lady, comfort to you 
make, 
And read who hath ye wrought this 

shamefull plight, 
That short revenge the man may over- 
take, 
Where-so he be, and soone upon him light.' 
' Certes,' (saide she) 'I wote not how he 

hight, 
But under him a gray steede he did wield, 
Whose sides with dapled circles wereu 

dight : 
Upright he rode, and in his silver shield 
He bore a bloodie Crosse that quartred 
all the field.' 



' Nowby my head,' (saide Guyon)' much 

I muse. 
How that same knight should doe so 

fowle amis. 
Or ever gentle Damzell so abuse : 
For, may I boldly say, he surely is 
A right good knight, and trew of word 

ywis : 
I present was, and can it witnesse well, 
When armes he swore, and streight did 

enterpris 
Th' adventure of the Errant damozell; 
In which he hath great glory wonue, as I 

heare tell. 



* Nathlesse he shortly shall againe be 

tryde, 
And f airely quit him of th' imputed blame ; 
Els, be ye sure, he dearely shall abyde, 
Or make you good amendment for the 

same: 
All wrongs have mendes, but no amendes 

of shame. 
Now therefore, Lady, rise out of your 

paine. 
And see the salving of your blotted name.' 
Full loth she seemd thereto, but yet did 

faine, 
For she was inly glad her purpose so to 

gains. 

XXI. 

Her purpose was not such as she did 
faine, 
Ne yet her person such as it was scene ; 
But under simple shew, and semblaut 
plaine, 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



105 



Lurkt false Duessa secretly unseene, 

As a chaste Virgin that had wronged 

beene : 
So had false Archimago her disguysd, 
To cloke her guile with sorrow and sad 

teene : 
And eke him self e had craftily devisd 
To be her Squire, and do her service well 

aguisd. 

XXII. 

Her, late forlorne and naked, he had 

found 
Where she did wander in waste wilder- 

nesse, 
Lurking in rockes and caves far under 

ground, 
And with greene mosse cov'ring her 

nakednesse 
To hide her shame and loathly filthinesse, 
Sith her Prince Arthur of proud orna- 
ments 
And borrowd beauty spoyld. Her nathe- 

lesse 
Th' enchaunter finding fit for his intents 
Did thus revest, and deckt with dew 

habiliments. 

XXIII. 

For all he did was to deceive good 

knights. 
And draw them from pursuit of praise 

and fame 
To slug in slouth and sensuall delights. 
And end their dales with irrenowmed 

shame. 
And now exceeding grief e him overcame, 
To see the Redcrosse thus advaunced 

hye; 
Therefore this craftie engine he did 

frame. 
Against his praise to stirre up enmitye 
Of such, as vertues like mote unto him 

allye. 

XXIV. 

So now he Guyon guydes an uncouth 
way 

Through woods and mountaines, till they 
came at last 

Into a pleasant dale that lowly lay 

Betwixt two hils, whose high heads 
overplast 

The valley did with coole shade over- 
cast: 

Through midst thereof a little river 
rold 

By which there sate a knight with helme 
unlaste, 

Himselfe refreshing with the liquid cold, 

After his travell long and labours mani- 
fold. 



XXV. 

'Lo! yonder he,' cryde Archimage 

alowd, 
' That wrought the shamefull fact which I 

did shew; 
And now he doth himselfe in secret 

shrowd. 
To fly the vengeaunce for his outrage 

dew : 
But vaine ; for ye shall dearely do him 

rew, 
So God ye speed and send you good suc- 

cesse, 
Which we far off will here abide to vew.' 
So they him left intiam'd with wrathful- 

nesse, 
That streight against that knight his 

speare he did addresse. 

XXVI. 

Who, seeing him from far so fierce to 
pricke, 

His warlike armes about him gan em- 
brace. 

And in the rest his ready speare did 
sticke : 

Tho, when as still he saw him towards 
pace. 

He gan rencounter him in eqnall race. 

They bene ymett, both ready to affrap, 

AVhen suddeinly that warriour gan abace 

His threatned speare, as if some new mis- 
hap, 

Had him betide, or hidden danger did 
entrap ; 

XXVII. 

And cryde, 'IVIercie, Sir knight! and 

mercie. Lord, 
For mine offence and heedelesse hardi- 

ment. 
That had almost committed crime abhord, 
And with reprochfuU shame mine honour 

sheut, 
Whiles cursed Steele against that badge I 

bent, 
The sacred badge of my Redeemers 

death. 
Which on your shield is set for orna- 
ment! ' 
But his fierce foe his steed could stay 

uneath. 
Who, prickt with courage keue, did cruell 

battell breath. 

XXVIII. 

But, when he heard him speake, .streight 
way he knew 
His errour; and, himselfe inclyuiug, 
sayd ; 



io6 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



[book ii. 



'All! deare Sir Guyon, well becommeth 

you, 
But me behoveth rather to upbrayd, 
Whose hastie hand so far from reason 

strayd, 
That almost it did hayuous violence 
On that fayre ymage of that heavenly 

Mayd, 
That decks and amies your shield with 

faire defence : 
Your court'sie takes on you anothers dew 

offence.' 

XXIX. 

So beene they both at one, and doen up- 

reare 
Their bevers bright each other for to 

greet ; 
Goodly comportaunce each to other beare, 
And entertaine themselves with court'sies 

meet. 
Then said the Redcrosse knight; 'Now 

mote I weet, 
Sir Guyon, why with so fierce saliaunce, 
And fell intent, ye did at earst me meet ; 
For sith I know your goodly governauiice, 
Great cause, I weene, you guided, or some 

uncouth chaunce.' 



' Certes,' (said he) ' well mote I shame 
to tell 
The fond encheason that me hither led. 
A false infamous faitour late befell 
Me for to meet, that seemed ill bested, 
And playnd of grievous outrage, whieii he 

red 
A knight had wrought against a Ladle 

gent ; 
Which to avenge he to this place me led. 
Where you he made the marke of his in- 
tent. 
And now is fled : foule shame him follow 
wher he went! ' 

XXXI. 

So can he turne his earnest unto game. 
Through goodly haivlling and wise t*em- 

peraunce. 
By this his aged Guide in presence came ; 
Who, soone as on that knight his eye did 

glaunce, 
Eftsoones of him had perfect cogni- 

zaunce, 
Sith him in Faery court he late avizd ; 
And sayd ; ' Fayre sonne, God give you 

happy chaunce. 
And that deare Crosse uppon your shield 

devizd, 
Wlierewith above all knights ye goodly 

.seeme aguizd ! 



XXXII. 

' Joy may you have, and everlasting 

fame. 
Of late most hard atchiev'ment by you 

donne, 
For which enrolled is your glorious name 
In heavenly Regesters above the Sunne, 
Where you a Saint with Saints your seat 

have wonne : 
But wretched we, where ye have left your 

marke, 
Must now anew begin like race to ronne. 
God guide thee, Guyon, well to end thy 

warke. 
And to the wished haven bring thy weary 

barke ! ' 

XXXIII. 

' Palmer,' him answered the Redcrosse 

knight, 
' His be the praise that this atchiev'ment 

wrought. 
Who made my hand the organ of his 

might : 
More then goodwill to me attribute 

nought ; 
For all I did, I did but as I ought. 
But you, faire Sir, whose pageant next 

ensevves. 
Well mote yee thee, as well can wish your 

thought, 
That home ye may report thrise happy 

newes; 
For well ye worthy bene for worth and 

gentle the Aves.' 

XXXIV. 

So courteous conge both did give and 

take, 
With right hands plighted, pledges of 

good will. 
Then Guyon forward gan his voyage 

make 
With his blacke Palmer, that him guided 

still: 
Still he him guided over dale and hill. 
And with his steedy staffe did point his 

way ; 
His race with reason, and with words his 

will, 
From fowle intemperaunce he ofte did 

stay, 
And suffred not in wrath his hasty steps 

to stray. 

XXXV. 

In this faire wize they traveild long 
yfere, 
Through many hard assaj'^es which did 
betide ; 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



107 



Of which he honour still away did beare, 
And spred his glory through all countryes 

wide. 
At last, as chaunst them by a forest side 
To passe, for succour from the scorching 

ray, 
They heard a ruefull voice, that dearuly 

cride 
With percing shriekes and many a dolef ull 

lay; 
Which to attend awhile their forward 

steps they stay. 



' But if that carelesse hevens,' (quoth 

she) ' despise 
The doome of just revenge, and take de- 
light 
To see sad pageaunts of mens miseries, 
Asbownd by them to live in lives despight ; 
Yet can they not warne death from 

wretched wight. 
Come, then ; come soone ; come sweetest 

death, to me. 
And take away this long lent loathed 

light: 
Sharpe be thy wounds, but sweete the 

medicines be. 
That long captived soules from weary 

thraldome free. 

XXXVII. 

* But thou, sweete Babe, whom frowning 

froward fate 
Hath made sad witnesse of thy fathers 

fall, 
Sith heven thee deignes to hold in living 

state. 
Long maist thou live, and better thrive 

withall 
Then to thy lucklesse parents did befall. 
Live thou ; and to thy mother dead attest 
That cleare she dide from blemish crimi- 

nall : 
Thy litle hands embrewd in bleeding 

brest 
Loe! I for pledges leave. So give me 

leave to rest.' 

XXXVIII. 

With that a deadly shrieke she forth did 

throw 
That through the wood re-echoed againe ; 
And after gave a grone so deepe and low 
That seemd her tender heart was rent in 

twaine. 
Or thrild with point of thorough-piercing 

paiue : 
As gentle Hynd, whose sides with cruell 

Steele 



Through launched, forth her bleeding life 

does raine, 
Whiles the sad pang approching shee does 

feele, 
Braies out her latest breath, and up her 

eies doth seele. 

XXXIX. 

Which when that warriour heard, dis- 
mounting straict 
From his tall steed, he rusht into the 

thick. 
And soone arrived where that sad pour- 

traict 
Of death and dolour lay, halfe dead, halfe 

quick ; 
In whose white alabaster brest did stick 
A cruell knife that made a griesly wownd, 
From which forth gusht a stream of gore 

blood thick. 
That all her goodly garments staind 

arownd, 
And into a deepe sanguine dide the grassy 

grownd. 

XL. 

Pitifull spectacle of deadly smart, 
Beside a bubling fountaine low she lay, 
Which shee increased with her bleeding 

hart, 
And the cleane waves with purple gore 

did ray: 
Als in her lap a lovely babe did play 
His cruell sport, in stead of sorrow dew; 
For in her streaming blood he did embay 
His litle hands, and tender joints embrew : 
Pitifull spectacle, as ever eie did vew ! 



Besides them both, upon the soiled gras 
The dead corse of an armed knight was 

spred, 
AVhose armour all with blood besprincled 

was; 
His ruddy lips did smyle, and rosy red 
Did paint his chearefull cheekes, yett be- 
ing ded ; 
Seemd to have beene a goodly personage, 
Now in his freshest flowre of lusty-hed, 
Fitt to inflame faire Lady with loves rage, 
But that tiers fate did crop the blossome 
of his age. 

XLII. 

Whom when the good Sir Guyon did 

behold. 
His hart gan wexe as starke as marble 

stone. 
And his fresh blood did frieze with feare- 

full cold, 



io8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



That all his sences seemd beref te attone : 
At last his mighty ghost gan deepe to 

grone, 
As Lion, grudging in his great disdaine, 
Mournes inwardly, and makes to him 

selfe mone ; 
Til ruth and fraile affection did eoustraine 
His stout courage to stoupe, and shew his 

inward paine. 



Out of her gored wound the cruell steel 
He lightly snatcht, and did the tioodgate 

stop 
With his faire garment ; then gan softly 

feel 
Her feeble pulse, to prove if any drop 
Of living blood yet in her veynes did hop : 
Which when he felt to move, he hoped faire 
To call backe life to her forsaken shop. 
So well he did her deadly wounds repaire, 
That at the last shee gan to breath out 

living aire. 

XLIV. 

Which he perceiving greatly gan rejoice, 
And goodly counsell, that for wounded 

hart 
Is meetest med'cine, tempred with sweete 

voice : 
'Ay me ! deare Lady, which the ymage art 
Of rueful! pitty and impatient smart, 
What direfuU chaunce, armd with aveng- 
ing fate, 
Or cursed hand, hath plaid this cruell part. 
Thus fowle to hasten your untimely date ? 
Speake, O dear Lady, speake! help never 
comes too late.' 

XLV. 

Therewith her dim eie-lids she up gan 

reare. 
On which the drery death did sitt as sad 
As lump of lead, and made darke clouds 

appeare : 
But when as him, all in bright armour 

clad, 
Before her standing she espied had, 
As one out of a deadly dreame affright. 
She weakely started, yet she nothing 

drad : 
Streight downe againe herself e, in great 

despight. 
She groveling threw to ground, as hating 

life and light. 



The gentle knight her sooue with care- 
full paine 



Uplifted light, and softly did uphold : 
Thrise he her reard, and thrise she sunck 

againe. 
Till he his armes about her sides gan fold, 
And to her said ; ' Yet, if the stony cold 
Have not all seized on your frozen hart, 
Let one word fall that may your grief 

unfold. 
And tell the secrete of your mortall smart : 
He oft finds present helpe who does his 

grief e impart.' 



Then, casting up a deadly looke, full 

low 
Shee sight from bottome of her wounded 

brest ; 
And after, many bitter throbs did throw, 
AVith lips full pale and foltring tong op- 

prest. 
These words she breathed forth from 

riven chest : 
' Leave, ah ! leave off, whatever wight 

thou bee, 
To lett a weary wretch from her dew rest. 
And trouble dying soules trauquilitee ; 
Take not away, now got, which none 

would give to me.' 



' Ah! far be it,' (said he) ' Deare dame, 
fro mee. 
To hinder soule from her desired rest. 
Or hold sad life in long captivitee; 
For all I seeke is but to have redrest 
The bitter pangs that doth your heart in- 
fest. 
Tell then, O Lady ! tell what fatall priefe 
Hath with so huge misfortune you opprest ; 
That I may cast to compas your reliefe. 
Or die with you in sorrow, and partake 
your grief e.' * 

XLIX. 

With feeble hands then stretched forth 

on bye. 
As heven accusing guilty of her death, 
And with dry drops congealed in her eye, 
In these sad'wordes she spent her utmost 

breath : 
'Heare then, O man! the sorrowes that 

uneath 
My tong can tell, so far all sence they 

pas. 
Loe ! this dead corpse, that lies here under- 
neath. 
The gentlest knight, that ever on greene 

gras 
Gay steed with spurs did pricke, the good 

Sir Mortdant was : 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



109 



' Was, (ay the while, that he is not so 
now!) 

My Lord, my love, my deare Lord, my 
deare love ! 

So long as hevens just with equall brow 

Vouchsafed to behold us from above. 

One day, when him high corage did em- 
move, 

As wont ye knightes to seeke adventures 
wilde. 

He pricked forth his puissant force to 
prove. 

Me then he left enwombed of this childe, 

This luckles childe, whom thus ye see with 
blood defild. 

LI. 

* Him fortuned (hard fortune ye may 

ghesse) 
To come, where vile Acrasia does wonne ; 
Acrasia, a false enchaunteresse, 
That many errant knightes hath fowle 

fordoune ; 
Within a wandring Island, that doth 

ronne 
And stray in perilous gulfe, her dwelling 

is. 
Fayre Sir, if ever there ye travell, shonne 
The cursed land where many wend amis, 
And know it by the name : it hight the 

Bowre of hlis. 



' Her blis is all in pleasure, and delight, 
"N^Tierewith she makes her lovers dronken 

mad; 
And then with words, and weedes, of 

w^ondrous might. 
On them she workes her will to uses bad : 
My liefest Lord she thus beguiled had ; 
For he was flesh ; (all flesh doth f rayltie 

breed) 
Whom when I heard to beene so ill bestad, 
Weake wretch, I wrapt myselfe in Palmers 

weed , 
And cast to seek him forth through danger 

and great dreed. 



* Now had fayre Cynthia by even tournes 
Full measured three quarters of her yeare. 
And thrise three tymes had fild her 

crooked homes, 
When as my wombe her burdeiu would 

forbeare. 
And bad me call Lucina to me neare. 
Lucina came ; a manehild forth I brought 
The woods, the nymphes, my bowres, my 

midwives, weare : 



Hard help at need! So deare thee, babe, 

I bought ; 
Yet nought too dear I deemd, while so my 

deare I sought. 



' Him so I sought ; and so at last I fownd, 
Where him that witch had thralled to her 

will. 
In chaines of lust and lewde desyres 

ybo wnd , 
And so transformed from his former skill. 
That me he knew not, nether his owTie ill ; 
Till, through wise handling and faire 

governaunce, 
I him recured to a better will, 
Purged from drugs of fowle iutemper- 

aunee : 
Then nieanes I gan devise for his deliver- 

aunce. 



' Wliich when the vile Enchaunteresse 

perceiv'd. 
How that my Lord from her I would re- 

prive, 
With cup thus charmd him parting she 

deceivd ; 
" Sad verse, give death to him that death 

does give, 
" And losse of love to her that loves to 

live, 
" So soone as Bacchus with the Nymphe 

does lincke! " 
So parted we, and on our journey drive ; 
Till, coming to this w^ell, he stoupt to 

drincke : 
The charme fulfild, dead suddeinly he 

downe did sincke. 



' Which when I, wretch ' — Not one word 

more she sayd, 
But breaking off the end for want of 

breath, 
And slydiug soft, as downe to sleepe her 

layd. 
And ended all her woe in quiet death. 
That seeing, good Sir Guyon coud uneath 
From teares abstayue ; for griefe his hart 

did grate. 
And from so heavie sight his head did 

Avreath, 
Accusing fortune, and too cruell fate, 
Which plonged had faire Lady in so 

wretched state. 



Then turning to his Palmer said; 'Old 
syre, 



no 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Behold the ymage of mortalitie, 

And feeble nature cloth'd with Heshly 

tyre. 
When raging passion with fierce tyranny 
Robs reason of her dew regalitie, 
And makes it servaunt to her basest 

part, 
The strong it weakens with infirmitie, 
And with bold furie armes the weakest 

hart : 
The strong through pleasure soonest falles, 

the weake through smart.' 



* But temperaunce ' (said he) ' with 
golden squire 

Betwixt them both can measure out a 
meane ; 

Nether to melt in pleasures whottdesyre, 

Nor frye in hartlesse griefe and dolefull 
tene: 

Thrise happy man, who fares them both 
atweene! 

But sith this wretched woman overcome 

Of anguish, rather then of crime, hath 
bene, 

Reserve her cause to her eternall doome ; 

And, in the meane, vouchsafe her honor- 
able toombe.' 

LIX. 

' Palmer,' quoth he, * death is an equall 

doome 
To good and bad, the common In of 

rest; 
But after death the tryall is to come. 
When best shall bee to them that lived 

best; 



But both alike, when death hath both 

supprest. 
Religious reverence doth buriall teene ; 
Which whoso wants, wants so much of 

his rest : 
For all so great shame after death I weene, 
As selfe to dyen bad, unburied bad to 

beene.' 

LX. 

So both agree their bodies to engrave : 
The great earthes wombe they open to the 

sky, 
And with sad Cypresse seemely it em- 
brave ; 
Then, covering with a clod their closed 

eye. 
They lay therein their corses tenderly, 
And bid them sleepe in everlasting peace. 
But, ere they did their utmost obsequy. 
Sir Guyon, more affection to increace', 
Bynempt a sacred vow, which none should 
ay releace. 

LXI. 

The dead knights sword out of his 

sheath he drew, 
With which he cutt a lock of all their 

heare, 
Which medling with their blood and earth 

he threw 
Into the grave, and gan devoutly sweare ; 
' Such and such evil God on Guyon reare, 
And worse and worse, young Orphane, be 

thy payne, 
If I, or thou, dew vengeaunce doe forbeare, 
Till guiltie blood her guerdon doe ob- 

tayne ! ' 
So shedding many teares they closd the 

earth agayne. 



CANTO n. 

Babes bloody handes may not be clensd : 

The face of golden Meane : 
Her sisters, two Extremities, 

Strive her to banish cleane. 



Thus when Sir Guyon with his faithful 

guyde 
Had with dew rites and dolorous lament 
The end of their sad Tragedie uptyde. 
The litle babe up in his armes he lient ; 
Who with sweet pleasaunce, and bold 

blandishment, 
Gan smyle on them, that rather ought to 

weepe, 
As carelesse of his woe, or innocent 
Of that was doen ; that ruth emperced 

deeps 



In that knightes hart, and wordes with 
bitter teares did steepe : 



* Ah ! lucklesse babe, borne under cruel! 
star re. 
And in dead parents balefull ashes bred, 
Full little weenest tliou what sorrowes are 
Left thee for porcion of thy livelyhed ; 
Poore Orphane ! in the wild world scat- 
tered. 
As budding braunch rent from the native 
tree, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



Ill 



And throwen forth, till it be withered. 
Such is the state of men : Thus enter 

we 
Into this life with woe, and end with 

miseree ! ' 

III. 

Then, soft himselfe inclyning on his 

knee 
Downe to that well, did in the water 

weene 
(So love does loath disdainefull nieitee) 
His guiltie handes from bloody gore to 

cleene. 
He washt them oft and oft, yet nought 

they beene 
For all his washing cleaner. Still he 

strove ; 
Yet still the litle hands were bloody 

seene : 
The which him into great amaz'ment 

drove, 
And into diverse doubt his wavering won- 
der clove. 

IV. 

He wist not whether blott of fowle 

offence 
Might not be purgd with water nor with 

bath; 
Or that high God, in lieu of innocence. 
Imprinted had that token of his 

wrath, 
To shew how sore bioodguiltinesse he 

hat'th ; 
Or that the charme and veneme which 

they dronck. 
Their blood with secret filth infected 

hath. 
Being diffused through the senceless 

tronck, 
That through the great contagion direful 

deadly stonck. 



Whom thus at gaze the Palmer gan to 
bord 

With goodly reason, and thus fayre be- 
spake ; 

' Ye bene right hard amated, gratious 
Lord, 

And of your ignorance great merveill 
make, 

Whiles cause not well conceived ye mis- 
take: 

But know, that secret vertues are in- 
fusd 

In every fountaine, and in everie lake. 

Which who hath skill them rightly to 
have chusd. 

To proofe of passing wonders hath full 
often usd : 



'Of those, some were so from their 
sourse indewd 
By great Dame Nature, from whose fruit- 
full pap 
Their welheads spring, and are with 

moisture deawd ; 
Which feedes each living plant with 

liquid sap. 
And filles with flowres fayre Floraes 

painted lap : 
But other some, by guifte of later grace. 
Or by good prayers, or by other hap. 
Had vertue pourd into their waters bace. 
And thenceforth were renowmd, and 
sought from place to place. 



' Such is this well, wrought by occasion 
straunge. 

Which to her Nymph befell. Upon a 
day. 

As she the woodes with bow and shaftes 
did raunge. 

The hartlesse Hynd and Robucke to dis- 
may, 

Dan Faunus chaunst to meet her by the 
way, 

And, kindling fire at her faire-burniug 
eye, 

Liflamed was to follow beauties pray, 

And chaced her that fast from him did 

fly; 

As hynd from her, so she fled from her 
enimy. 

VIII. 

* At last, when fayliug breath began to 

faint, 
And saw no meanes to scape, of shame 

affrayd, 
She set her downe to weepe for sore con- 
straint ; 
And to Diana calling lowd for ayde. 
Her deare besought to let her die a niayd. 
The goddesse heard ; and suddeine, where 

she sate 
Welling out streames of teares, and quite 

dismayd 
With stony feare of that rude rustick 

mate, 
Transformd her to a stone from stedfast 

virgins state. 

IX. 

'Lo! now she is that stone; from 

whose two heads. 
As from two weeping eyes, fresh streames 

do flow, 
Yet colde through feare and old conceived 

dreads ; 



112 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



And yet the stoue her semblauee seemes 

to show, 
Shapt like a maide, that such ye may her 

know : 
And yet her vertues in her water byde, 
For it is chaste and pure as purest snow, 
Ne lets her waves with any filth be dyde ; 
But ever, like herselfe, unstayned hath 

beeue tryde. 

X. 

* From thence it comes, that this babes 

bloody hand 
May not be clensd with water of this 

well: 
Ne certes. Sir, strive you it to withstand, 
But let them still be bloody, as befell, 
That they his mothers innocence may 

tell. 
As she bequeathd in her last testament ; 
That, as a sacred Symbole, it may dwell 
In her sonnes flesh, to mind revengement, 
And be for all chaste Dames an endlesse 

mouimeut.' 

XI. 

He hearkned to his reason, and the 

childe 
Uptaking, to the Palmer gave to beare ; 
But his sad fathers amies with blood 

defilde. 
An heavie load, himselfe did lightly 

reare ; 
And turning to that place, in which whyle- 

are 
He left his loftie steed with golden sell 
And goodly gorgeous barbes, him found 

not theare : 
By other accident, that earst befell. 
He is convaide ; but how, or where, here 

fits not tell. 

XII. 

Which when Sir Guyon saw, all were 
he wroth. 
Yet algates mote he soft himselfe ap- 
pease, 
And fairely fare on foot, how ever loth : 
His double burden did him sore disease. 
So long they travelled with litle ease. 
Till that at last they to a Castle came. 
Built on a rocke adjoyning to the seas: 
It was an auncient worke of antique 

fame, 
And wondrous strong by nature, and by 
skiUull frame. 



Therein three sisters dwelt of sundry 
sort, 
The children of one syre by mothers 
three : 



Who dying whylome did divide this fort 
To them by equall shares in equall fee : 
Bnt stryfull mind and diverse qualitee 
Drew them in partes, and each made 

others foe: 
Still did they strive and daily disagree ; 
The eldest did against the youngest goe, 
And both against the middest meant to 

worken woe. 

XIV. 

Where when the knight arriv'd, he was 

right well 
Receiv'd, as knight of so much worth 

became. 
Of second sister, who did far excell 
The other two : Medina was her name, 
A sober sad and comely courteous Dame ; 
Who rich arayd, and yet in modest guize. 
In goodly garments that her well became, 
Fay re marching forth in honorable wize, 
Him at the threshold mett, and well did 

enterprize. 

XV. 

She led him up into a goodly bowre, 
And comely courted with meet modestie ; 
Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour. 
Was lightnesse scene or looser vanitie. 
But gratioas womanhood, and gravitie. 
Above the reason of her youthly yeares. 
Her golden lockes she roundly did uptye 
In breaded tramels, that no looser heares 
Did out of order stray about her daintie 
eares. 



Whilest she her selfe thus busily did 

frame 
Seemely to entertaine her new-come 

guest, 
Newes hereof to her other sisters came. 
Who all this while were at their wanton 

rest, 
Accourting each her frend with lavish 

fest: 
They were two knights of perelesse puis- 

saunce. 
And famous far abroad for warlike gest, 
Which to these Ladies love did coun- 

tenaunce. 
And to his mistresse each himselfe strove 

to advauuce. 

XVII. 

He that made love unto the eldest 

Dame, 
Was hight Sir Huddibras, an hardy man ; 
Yet not so good of deedes as great of 

name, 
Which he by many rash adventures wan, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



Siuce errant armes to sew he first began : 
More hnge in strength than wise in 

workes he was, 
And reason with foole-hardize over ran ; 
Sterne melancholy did his courage pas, 
And was, for terrour more, all armd in 

shyniug bras. 

XVIII. 

But he that lov'd the youngest was 

Sansloy ; 
He, that faire Una late fowle outraged, 
The most unruly and the boldest boy 
That ever warlike weapons menaged, 
And all to lawlesse lust encouraged 
Through strong opinion of his matchlesse 

might ; 
Ne ought he car'd whom he endamaged 
By tortious wrong, or whom bereav'd of 

right : 
He, now this Ladies Champion, chose for 

love to fight. 

XIX. 

These two gay knights, vowd to so 
diverse loves, 

Each other does envy v/ith deadly hate, 

And daily warre against his foeman 
moves. 

In hope to win more favour with his 
mate. 

And th' others pleasing service to abate. 

To magnifie his owne. But when they 
heard 

How in that place straunge knight ar- 
rived late, 

Both knightes and ladies forth right 
angry far'd, 

And ferceiy unto battell sterne them- 
selves prepar'd. 

XX. 

But ere they could proceede unto the 
place 
Where he abode, themselves at discord 

fell. 
And cruell combat joynd in middle space : 
With horrible assault, and fury fell. 
They heapt huge strokes the scorned life 

to quell. 
That all on uprore from her settled seat. 
The house was raysd, and all that in did 

dwell. 
Seemd that lowde thunder with amaze- 
ment great 
Did rend the ratling skyes with flames of 
fouldring heat. 



The noyse thereof cald forth that 
straunger knight, 



To weet what dreadfull thing was there 

in bond ; 
Where whenas two brave knightes in 

bloody fight 
With deadly rancour he enraunged fond. 
His sunbroad shield about his wrest he 

bond, 
And shyning blade unsheathd, with which 

he ran 
Unto that stead, their strife to under- 

stond ; 
And at his first arrivall them began 
With goodly meanes to pacific, well as he 

can. 

XXII. 

But they, him spying, both with greedy 
forse 
Attonce upon him ran, and him beset 
With strokes of mortall Steele without re- 
morse, 
And on his shield like yron sledges bet : 
As when a Beare and Tygre, being met 
In cruell fight on Lybicke Ocean wide, 
Espye a traveller with feet surbet, 
AVhom they in equall pray hope to divide. 
They stint their strife and him assayle on 
everie side. 

XXIII. 

But he, not like a weary traveilere, 
Their sharp assault right boldly did rebut. 
And suffred not their blowes to byte him 

uere. 
But with redoubled buffes them backe did 

put: 
Whose grieved mindes, which choler did 

englut. 
Against themselves turning their wrath- 
full spight, 
Gan with new rage their shieldes to hew 

and cut ; 
But still, when Guyon came to imrt their 

fight, 
With heavie load on him they freshly gan 

to smight. 

XXIV. 

As a tall ship tossed in troublous seas. 
Whom raging windes, threatning to make 

the pray 
Of the rough rockes, doe diversly disease, 
Meetes two contrarie billowes by the 

way, 
That her on either side doe sore assay. 
And boast to swallow her in greedy 

grave ; 
Shee, scorning both their spights, does 

make wide way, 
And with her brest breaking the fomy 

wave. 
Does ride on both their backs, ^n^ faire 

her self doth save. 



114 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



So boldly he him beares, and rusheth 

forth 
Betweeue them both by conduct of his 

blade. 
"Wondrous great prowesse and heroick 

worth 
He shewd that day, and rare ensample 

made, 
When two so mighty warriours he dismade. 
Attonce he wards and strikes ; he takes 

and paies ; 
Now forst to yield, now forcing to invade ; 
Before, behind, and round about him laies ; 
So double was his paines, so double be his 

praise. 

XXVI. 

Straunge sort of fight, three valiaunt 

knights to see 
Three combates joine in one, and to dar- 

raine 
A triple warre with triple enmitee, 
All for their Ladies froward love to gaine, 
Which gotten was but hate. So love does 

raine 
In stoutest minds, and maketh monstrous 

warre ; 
He maketh warre, he maketh peace againe, 
And yett his peace is but continual jarre : 
O miserable men that to him subject arre ! 

XXVII. 

AVhilst thus they mingled were in furi- 
ous armes. 
The faire Medina, with her tresses torne 
And naked brest, in pitty of their harmes, 
Emongst them ran ; and , falling them be- 

forne, 
Besought them by the womb which them 

had born. 
And by the loves which were to them most 

deare. 
And by the knighthood which they sure 

had sworn, 
Their deadly cruell discord to forbeare, 
And to her just conditions of faire peace 
to heare. 



But her two other sisters, standing by. 
Her lowd gainsaid, and both their cham- 
pions bad 
Pursew the end of their strong enmity. 
As ever of their loves they would be glad : 
Yet she with pitthy words, and counsell 

sad. 
Still strove their stubborne rages to re- 
voke ; 
That at the last, suppressing fury mad, 
They gan abstaine from dint of direfull 
stroke. 



And hearken to the sober speaches which 
she spoke. 

XXIX. 

* Ah, puissaunt Lords! what cursed evil 

Spright, 
Or fell Erinnys, in your noble harts 
Her hellish brond hath kindled with de- 

spight. 
And stird you up to worke your wilfull 

smarts ? 
Is this the joy of armes? be these the 

parts 
Of glorious knighthood, after blood to 

thrust, 
And not regard dew right and just desarts ? 
Vaine is the vaunt, and victory unjust. 
That more to mighty hands then rightful! 

cause doth trust. 



* And were there rightfull cause of differ- 
ence. 

Yet were not better fayre it to accord 

Then with bloodguiltinesse to heape of- 
fence. 

And mortal vengeaunce joyne to crime 
abhoi'd ? 

O ! fly from wrath ; fly, O my liefest Lord ! 

Sad be the sights, and bitter fruites of 
warre. 

And thousand furies wait on wrathfull 
sAvord ; 

Ne ought the praise of prowesse more doth 
niarre 

Then fowle revenging rage, and base con- 
tentious jarre. 



' But lovely concord, and most sacred 

peace, 
Doth nourish vertue, and fast friendship 

breeds, 
Weake she makes strong, and strong thing 

does increace. 
Till it the pitch of highest praise exceeds : 
Brave be her warres, and honorable deeds, 
By which shetriumphesoveryre and pride, 
And winnes an Olive girlond for her meeds. 
Be, therefore, O my deare Lords ! pacifide, 
And this misseeming discord meekelj^ lay 

aside.' 

XXXII. 

Her gracious words their rancour did 

appall. 
And suncke so deepe into their boyling 

brests, 
That downe they lett their cruell weapons 

fall. 
And lowly did abase their lofty crests 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



115 



To her f aire presence and discrete behests. 

Then she began a treaty to procure, 

And stablish terms betwixt both their re- 
quests, 

That as a law for ever should endure ; 

Which to observe in word of knights they 
did assure. 

XXXIII. 

AVhich to confirme, and fast to bind their 

league, 
After their weary sweat and bloody toile, 
Slie them besought, during their quiet 

treague, 
Into her lodging to repaire awhile. 
To rest themselves, and grace to reconcile. 
They soone consent : so forth with her they 

fare; 
Where they are well receivd, and made to 

spoile 
Themselves of soiled armes, and to prepare 
Their minds to pleasure, and their mouths 

to dainty fare. 



And those two f roward sisters, their f aire 
loves. 
Came with them eke, all were they won- 
drous loth. 
And fained cheare, as for the time behoves, 
But could not colour yet so well the troth. 
But that their natures bad appeard in 

both : 
For both did at their second sister grutch 
And inly grieve, as doth an hidden moth 
The inner garment frett, not th' utter 

touch : 
One thought her cheare too litle, th' other 
thought too mutch. 

XXXV. 

Elissa (so the eldest hight) did deeme 
Such entertainment base, ue ought would 

eat, 
Ne ought would speake, but evermore did 

seeme 
As discontent for want of merth or meat : 
No solace could her Paramour intreat 
Her once to show, ne court, nor dalliaunee ; 
But with bent lowring browes, as she would 

threat, 
She scould, and frownd with froward 

countenaunoe ; 
Unworthy of faire Ladies comely gover- 

naunce. 



But young Perissa was of other mynd. 
Full of disport, still laughing, loosely light. 
And quite contrary to her sisters kynd : 
No measure in her mood, no rule of right. 



But poured out in pleasure and delight: 
In wine and meats she flowd above the 

banck, 
And in excesse exceeded her owne might; 
In sumptuous tire she joyd her selfe to 

pranck. 
But of her love too lavish: (litle have she 

thanck !) 

XXXVII. 

Fast by her side did sitt the bold Sansloy , 
Fitt mate for such a mincing mineon, 
Who in her loosenesse tooke exceeding 
joy; 

Might not be found a francker franion, 
Of her leawd parts to make companion : 
But Huddibras, more like a Malecontent, 
Did see and grieve at his bold fashion ; 
Hardly could he endure his hardiment, 
Yett still he satt, and inly did him selfe 
torment. 

XXXVIII. 

Betwixt them both the faire Medina sate 
With sober grace and goodly carriage ; 
With equall measure she did moderate 
The strong extremities of their outrage. 
That forward paire she ever would as- 

swage, 
When they would strive dew reason to 

exceed ; 
But that same froward tw\aine would ac- 

corage, 
And of her plenty adde unto their need : 
So kept she them in order, and her selfe 

in heed. 

XXXIX. 

Thus fairely shee attempered her feast, 
And pleasd them all with meete satiety. 
At last, when lust of meat and drinke was 

ceast. 
She Guyon deare besought of curtesie 
To tell from whence he came through jeop- 
ardy, 
And whither now on new adventure 

bownd : 
Who with bold grace, and comely gravity, 
Drawing to him the eies of all arownd, 
From lofty siege began these words aloud 
to sownd. 

XL. 

'This thy demauud, O Lady! doth re- 
vive 
Fresh memory in me of that great Queene, 
Great and most glorious virgin Queene 

alive. 
That with her soveraine power, and scepter 

shene, 
All Faery lond does peaceably sustene. 
In widest Ocean she her throne does reare. 
That over all the earth it may be seene ; 



ii6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



As morniug Sunne her beames dispredden 

cleare, 
And ill her face faire pence and mercy 

doth appeare. 



In her the richesse of all heavenly grace 
In chiefe degree are heaped up on hye : 
And all, tliat els this worlds enclosure 

bace 
Hath great or glorious in niortall eye, 
Adornes the person of her Majestye ; 
That men, beholding so great excellence 
And rare perfection in mortalitye. 
Doe her adore with sacred reverence, 
As th' Idole of her makers great magnifi- 
cence. 

XLII. 

* To her I homage and my service owe, 
In number of the noblest knightes on 

ground ; 
Mongst whom on me she deigned to be- 

stowe 
Order of Maydenhead, the most renowud 
That may this day in all the world be 

found. 
An yearely solemne feast she woutes to 

hold. 
The daj' that first doth lead the yeare 

around. 
To which all knights of worth and cour- 
age bold 
Resort, to heare of strauuge adventures 

to be told. 

XLIII. 

' There this old Palmer shewd himselfe 

that day. 
And to that mighty Princesse did com- 

plaine 
Of grievous mischiefes which a wicked 

Fay 
Had wrought, and many whelmd in deadly 

paine ; 
Whereof he crav'd redresse. My Sover- 

aine, 
Whose glory is in gracious deeds, and 

joyes 
Throughout the world her mercy to maiu- 

taine. 



Eftsooues devisd redresse for such an- 

noyes : 
Me, all unfitt for so great purpose, she 

employes. 

XLIV. 

' Now hath faire Phebe with her silver 

face 
Thrise scene the shadowes of the neather 

world, 
Sith last I left that honorable place. 
In which her roiall presence is enrold ; 
Ne ever shall I rest in house nor hold, 
Till I that false Acrasia have wonne ; 
Of whose fowle deedes, too hideous to bee 

told, 
I witnesse am, and this their wretched 

Sonne, 
Whose wofull parents she hath wickedly 

fordonne.' 

XLV. 

'Tell on, fayre Sir,' said she, 'that 

dolefull tale. 
From which sad ruth does seeme you to 

restraine. 
That we may pitty such unhappie bale, 
And learne from pleasures poyson to ab- 

staine : 
111 by ensample good doth often gayne.' 
Then forward he his purpose gan pursew. 
And told the story of the mortall payne, 
Which Mordant and Amavia did rew. 
As with lamenting eyes him selfe did 

lately vew. 

XLVI. 

Night was far spent ; and now in Ocean 

deep 
Orion, flying fast from hissing snake, 
His flaming head did hasten for to steep, 
AVhen of his pitteous tale he end did 

make: 
Whilst with delight of that he wisely 

spake 
Those guestes, beguyled, did beguyle their 

eyes 
Of kindly sleepe that did them overtake. 
At last, when they had markt the 

chaunged skyes. 
They wist their houre was spent; then 

each to rest him hyes. 



CANTO III. 

Yaine Brag^adocchio, getting Guy- 
ons horse, is made the scorne 

Of knighthood trew ; and is of fayre 
Belphoebe fowle forlorue. 



>XjV 



SooNE as the morrow fayre with purple 
beanies 



Disperst the shadowes of the misty night, 
And Titan, playing on the eastern 
streames. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



117 



Gan cleare the deawy ayre with spring- 

hig light, 
Sir Guyon, mindfuU of his vow yplight, 
Uprose from drowsie couch, aud him 

addrest 
Unto the journey which he had hehight : 
His puissant amies ahout his nohle brest, 
AkI many-folded shield he bound about 

his wrest. 

II. 

Then, taking Conge' of that virgin pure, 
The bloody-lianded babe unto her truth 
Did earnestly committ, and her conjure 
In vertuous lore to traine his tender youth. 
And all that gentle noriture ensu'th; 
And that, so soone as ryper yeares he 

raught, 
He might, for memory of that dayes ruth, 
Be called Ruddymane ; and thereby taught 
T' avenge his Parents death on them that 

had it wrought. 



So forth he far'd, as now befell, on foot,. 
Sith his good steed is lately from him 

gone ; 
Patience perforce : helplesse what may it 

boot 
To f rett for anger, or for griefe to mone ? 
His Palmer now shall foot no more alone. 
So fortune wrought, as under greene 

woodes syde 
He lately heard that dying Lady grone, 
He left his steed without, and speare be- 

syde, 
And rushed in on foot to ayd her ere she 

dyde. 

IV. 

The whyles a losell wandring by the 

way, 
One that to bountie never east his raynd, 
Ne thought of honour ever did assay 
His baser brest, but in his kestrell kynd 
A pleasing vaine of glory he did fyud, 
To which his flowing toung and troublous 

spright 
Gave him great ayd, and made him more 

inclynd : 
He, that brave steed there finding ready 

dight, 
Purloynd both steed and speare, and ran 

away full light. 



Nov. ^,au his hart all swell in jollity. 
And of him selfe great hope and help con- 

ceiv'd. 
That puffed up with smoke of vanity, 
And with selfe-loved personage deceiV'd, 



He gan to hope of men to be receiv'd 
F'or such as he him thought, or faine would 

bee : 
But for in court gay portaunce he per- 

ceiv'd. 
And gallant shew to be in greatest gree, 
Eftsoones to court he cast t' advaunce his 

first degree. 

VI. 

And by the way he chaunced to espy 
One sitting ydle on a sunny banck, 
To him avaunting in great bravery. 
As Peacocke that his painted plumes doth 

pranck. 
He smote his courser in the trembling 

flanck, 
And to him threatned his hart-thrilling 

speare : 
The seely man, seeing him ryde so ranck. 
And ayme at him, fell fiatt to ground for 

feare. 
And crying, 'Mercy!' loud, his pitious 

handes gan reare. 



Thereat the Scarcrow wexed wondrous 
prowd. 

Through fortune of his first adventure 
fayre. 

And with big thundring voice revyld him 
lowd : 

' Vile Cay five, vassall of dread and de- 
spay re, 

Unworthie of the commune breathed ayre, 

Why livest thou, dead dog, a lenger day, 

And doest not unto death thyselfe pre- 
payre ? 

Dy, or thyselfe my captive yield for ay. 

Great favour I thee graunt for aunswere 
thus to stay.' 



'Hold, O deare Lord! hold your dead- 
doing hand,' 

Then loud he cryde ; ' I am your humble 
thrall.' 

' Ay wretch,' (quoth he) ' thy destinies 
withstand 

My wrathfull will, and doe for mercy call. 

I give thee life: therefore prostrated fall. 

And kisse my stirrup; that thy homage 
bee.' 

The Miser threw him selfe, as an Offall, 

Streight at his foot in base humilitee. 

And cleeped him his liege, to hold of him 
in fee. 



So happy peace they made and faire 
accord. 



ii8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Ef tsoones this liegeman gan to wexe more 

bold, 
And when he felt the folly of his Lord, 
In his owne kind he gan him selfe unfold ; 
For he was wylie witted, and growne old 
In cunning sleightes and practick knavery. 
From that day forth he cast for to uphold 
His ydle humour with fine flattery, 
And blow the bellowes to his swelling 

vanity. 

X. 

Trompart, fitt man for Braggadochio, 
To serve at court in view of vaunting eye ; 
Vaine-glorious man, when fl.uttring wind 

does blow 
In his light winges, is lifted up to skye ; 
The scorne of knighthood and trew chev- 

alrye, 
To thinke, without desert of gentle deed 
And noble worth, to be advaunced hye : 
Such prayse is shame; but honour, ver- 

tues meed, 
Doth beare the fayrest flowre in honour- 
able seed. 

XI. 

So forth they pas, a well consorted 

pay re. 
Till that at length with Archimage they 

meet : 
Who seeing one, that shone in armour 

fay re. 
On goodly courser thondring with his feet, 
Eftsoones supposed him a person meet 
Of his revenge to make the instrument ; 
For since the Redcrosse knight he erst did 

weet 
To been with Guy on knitt in one consent, 
The ill, which earst to him, he now to 

Guyon ment. 



And coming close to Trompart gan in- 
quere 
Of him, what mightie warriour that mote 

bee. 
That rode in golden sell with single spere, 
But wanted sword to wreake his enmitee ? 
' He is a great adventurer,' (said he) 
' That hath his sword through hard assay 

forgone. 
And now hath vowd, till he avenged bee 
Of that despight, never to wearen none : 
That speare is him enough to doeu a thou- 
sand grone.' 

XIII. 

Th' enchaunter greatly joyed in the 
vaunt, 
And weened well ere long his will to win, 



And both his foen with equall foyle to 
daunt. 

Tho to him louting lowly did begin 

To plaine of wronges, which had com- 
mitted bin 

By Guyon, and by that false Redcrosse 
knight ; 

Which two, through treason and deceipt- 
full gin, 

Had slayne Sir Mordant and his Lady 
bright : 

That mote him honour win to wreak so 
foule despight. 



Therewith all suddeinly he seemd en- 

ragd, 
And threatned death with dreadfull coun- 

tenaunce. 
As if their lives had in his hand beene 

gagd ; 
And with stiffe force shaking his mortall 

launce. 
To let him weet his doughtie valiaunce. 
Thus said : ' Old man great sure shal be 

thy meed, 
If, where those knights for feare of dew 

vengeaunce 
Doe lurke, thou certeinly to mee areed. 
That I may wreake on them their hainous 

hatefull deed.' 

XV. 

* Certes, my Lord,' (said he) * that shall 
I soone. 

And give you eke good helpe to their de- 
cay. 

But mote I wisely you advise to doon, 

Give no ods to your foes, but doe purvay 

Your self* of sword before that bloody 
day; 

For they be two the prowest knights on 
grownd. 

And oft appro v'd in many hard assay; 

And eke of surest Steele that may be 
fownd, 

Do arme your self against that day, them 
to confownd.' 



'Dotard,' (said he) 'let be thy deepe 

advise : 
Seemes that through many yeares thy wits 

thee faile, 
And that weake eld hath left thee nothing 

wise ; 
Els never should thy judgement be so 

frayle 
To measure manhood by the sword or 

mayle. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



119 



Is not enough fowre quarters of a . -an, 
Withouteu "sword or shield, an 1 "^ "'^ 

quayle ? 
Thou litle wotest what this right-hand 

can : 
Speake they which have beheld the bat- 

tailes which it wan.' 



The man was much abashed at his 

boast; 
Yet well he wist that whoso would contend 
With either of those knightes on even 

coast, 
Should neede of all his amies him to de- 
fend, 
Yet feared least his boldnesse should 

offend, 
When Braggadocchio saide ; ' Once I did 

sweare. 
When with one sword seven knightes I 

brought to end, 
Thenceforth in battaile never sword to 

beare. 
But it were that which noblest knight on 

earth doth weare.' 

XVIII. 

* Perdy, Sir knight,' saide then th' en- 

chaunter blive, 
'That shall I shortly purchase to your 

bond; 
For now the best and noblest knight alive 
Prince Arthur is, that wonnes in Faerie 

lond: 
He hath a sword that flames like burning 

brond. 
The same by my device I undertake 
Shall by to morrow by thy side be fond.' 
At which bold word that boaster gan to 

quake, 
And wondred in his minde what mote 

that Monster make. 



He stayd not for more bidding, but away 
Was suddein vanished out of his sight : 
The Northerne winde his wings did broad 

display 
At his commaund, and reared him up 

light 
From off the earth to take his aerie flight. 
They lookt about, but nowhere could es- 

pye 

Tract of his foot : then dead through great 

affright 
They both nigh were, and each bad other 

flye: 
Both fled attonce, ne ever backe retourned 

eye; 



XX. 

"iVA that titpy come unto a forresf greeue. 
In which ihey t,Lruwd themselves from 

causeles feare ; 
Yet feare them followes still where so 

they beene : 
Each trembling leafe and whistling wind 

they heare, 
As ghastly bug, does greatly them aff eare ; 
Yet both doe strive their fearefulnesse to 

faine. 
At last they heard a home that shrilled 

cleare 
Throughout the wood that ecchoed againe. 
And made the forrest ring, as it would 

rive in twaine. ' 

XXI. 

Eft through the thicke they heard one 

rudely rush. 
With noyse w^hereof he from his loftie 

steed 
Downe fell to ground, and crept into a 

bush, 
To hide his coward head from dying dreed : 
But Trompart stoutly stayd to taken heed 
Of what might hap. Eftsoone there 

stepped foorth 
A goodly Ladie clad in hunters weed. 
That seemd to be a woman of great worth, 
And by her stately portance borne of 

heavenly birth. 

XXII. 

Her face so faire as flesh it seemed not, 
But hevenly pourtraict of bright Angels 

hew, 
Cleare as the skye, withouten blame or 

blot. 
Through goodly mixture of complexions 

dew; 
And in her cheekes the vermeill red did 

shew 
Like roses in a bed of lilies shed, 
The which ambrosiall odours from them 

threw, 
And gazers sence with double pleasure 

fed, 
Hable to heale the sicke, and to revive 

the ded. 



In her faire eyes two living lamps did 

flame. 
Kindled above at th' hevenly makers light, 
And darted fyrie beames out of the same. 
So passing persant, and so wondrous 

bright. 
That quite bereav'd the rash beholders 

sight: 



I20 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



In them the blinded god his lustf all fyre 
To kindle oft assayd, but had no might ; 
For, with dredd Majestic and awfull yre, 
She broke his wanton darts, and quenched 
bace desyre. 

XXIV. 

Her yvorie forhead, full of bountie 

brave. 
Like a broad table did it selfe dispred. 
For Love his loftie triumphes to engrave, 
And write the battailes of his great god- 

hed: 
All good and honour might therein be red, 
For there their dwelling was. And, when 

she spake, 
Sweete wordes like dropping honny she 

did shed ; 
And twixt the perles and rubins softly 

brake 
A silver sound, that heavenly musicke 

seemd to make. 



Upon her eyelids many Graces sate, 
Under the shadow of her even browes, 
Working belgardes and amorous retrate ; 
And everie one her with a grace endowes, 
And everie one with meekenesse to her 

bowes. 
So glorious mirrhour of celestial] grace, 
And soveraine monimentof mortall vowes, 
How shall f rayle pen descrive her heav- 
enly face, 
For feare, through want of skill, her 
beauty to disgrace ? 



So faire, and thousand thousand times 

more faire. 
She seemd, when she presented was to 

sight ; 
And was yclad, for heat of scorching aire. 
All in a silken Camus lilly whight, 
Purfled upon with many a folded plight, 
AVhich all above besprinckled w^as 

throughout 
AVith golden aygulets, thatglistred bright 
Like twinckling starres ; and all the skirt 

about 
Was hemd with golden fringe. 



Below her ham her weed did somewhat 

trayne, 
And her streight legs most bravely were 

embayld 
In gilden buskins of costly Cordwayne, 
All bard with golden bendes, which were 

entayld 



With curious antickes, and full fayre 

aumayld : 
Before, they fastned were under her 

knee 
In a rich Jewell, and therein entrayld 
The ends of all the knots, that none might 

see 
How they within Iheir fouldings close 

enwrapped bee : 

XXVIII. 

Like two faire marble pillours they were 

seene. 
Which doe the temple of the Gods sup- 

poi-t, 
Whom all the people decke with grrlands 

greene. 
And honour in their festivall resort ; 
Those same with stately grace and princely 

port 
She taught to tread, when she herself e 

would grace ; 
But with the woody Nymphes when she 

did play, 
Or when the flying Libbard she did chace, 
She could them nimbly move, and after 

fly apace. 



And in her hand a sharpe bore-speare she 
held, 
And at her backe a bow and quiver gay, 
Stuft with steele-headed dartes, where- 
with she queld 
The salvage beastes in her victorious 

play, 
Knit with a golden bauldricke, which fore- 
lay 
Athwart her snowy brest, and did divide 
Her daintie paps ; which, like young fruit 

in May, 
Now little gan to swell, and being tide 
Through her thin weed their places only 
signitide. 

XXX. 

Her yellow lockes, crisped like golden 
wyre. 
About her shoulders weren loosely shed, 
And, when the winde eraongst them did 

in spy re, 
They waved like a penon wyde dispred, 
And low behinde her backe were scattered : 
And, whether art it were or heedlesse 

hap. 
As through the flouring forrest rash she 

fled, 
In her rude heares sweet flowres them- 
selves did lap, 
And flourishing fresh leaves and blos- 
somes did enwrap. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



Such as Dial) a by the sandy shore 
Of swift Eurotas, or on Cynthus greene, 
Where all the Nyniphes have her unwares 

forlore, 
Waudreth alone with bow and arrowes 

keene, 
To seeke her game: Or as that famous 

Queene 
Of Amazons, whom Pyrrhus did destroy, 
The day that first of Priame she was 

seene, 
Did shew her selfe in great triumphant 

joy, 

To succour the weake state of sad afflicted 
Troy. 

XXXII. 

Such when as hartlesse Trompart her 

did vew. 
He was dismayed in his coward minde. 
And doubted whether he hiniselfe should 

shew, 
Or fly away, or bide alone behinde; 
Both feare and hope he in her face did 

finde : 
When she at last him spying thus be- 
spake : 
' Hayle, Groome! didst not thou see a 

bleeding Hyude, 
Whose right haunch earst my stedfast 

arrow strake ? 
If thou didst, tell me, that I may her 

overtake.' 

XXXIII. 

Wherewith reviv'd, this answere forth 

he threw : 
' O Goddesse, (for such I thee take to bee) 
For nether doth thy face terrestriall 

shew, 
Nor voyce sound mortall ; I avow to thee, 
Such wounded beast as that I did not see, 
Sith earst into this forrest wild I came. 
But mote thy goodlyhed foi-give it mee, 
To weete which of the gods I shall thee 

name, 
That unto thee dew worship I may rightly 

frame.' 

xxxiv. 
To whom she thus — but ere her words 

ensewd. 
Unto the bush her eye did suddein glaunce. 
In which vaine Braggadocchio was mewd, 
And saw it stirre : she lef te her percing 

launce, 
And towards gan a deadly shafte 

advaunce, 
In mind to marke the beast. At which 

sad stowre 
Trompart forth stept to stay the mortall 

chaunce, 



Out crying; 'O! what ever heveuly 

powre. 
Or earthly wight thou be, withhold this 

deadly liowre. 



'O! stay thy hand; for yonder is no 

game 
For thy tiers arrowes, them to exercize , 
But loe ! my Lord, my liege, whose war- 
like name 
Is far renowmd through many bold 

em prize ; 
And now iu shade he shrowded yonder 

lies.' 
She staid : with that he crauld out of his 

nest. 
Forth creeping on his caitive hands and 

thies ; 
And, standing stoutly up, his lofty crest 
Did fiercely shake, and rowze as comming 

late from rest. 



As fearfull fowle, that long in secret 

cave 
For dread of soring hauke her selfe hath 

hid. 
Nor caring how, her silly life to save. 
She her gay painted plumes disorderid ; 
Seeing at last her selfe from daunger rid, 
Peepes forth, and soone renews her native 

pride : 
She gins her feathers fowle disfigured 
Prowdly to prune, and sett on every side ; 
She shakes off shame, ne thinks how erst 

she did her hide. 

xxxvii. 

So when her goodly visage he beheld. 
He gan himselfe to vaunt : but, when he 

vewd 
Those deadly tooles which iu her hand she 

held, 
Soone into other fitts he was transmewd, 
Till she to him her gracious speach 

renewd : 
' All haile, Sir knight! and well may thee 

befall. 
As all the like, which honor have pursewd 
Through deeds of armes and prowesse 

martiall. 
All vertue merits praise, but such the 

most of all.' 

xxxviii. 

To whom he thus: 'O fairest under 
skie! 
Trew be thy words, and worthy of thy 
praise, 



122 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



That warlike feats doest highest glorifie. 
Therein I have spent all my youthly 

dales, 
And many battailes fought and many 

fraies 
Throughout the world, wher-so they might 

be found, 
Endevoring my dreaded name to raise 
Above the Moone, that fame may it 

resound 
In her eternall tromp, with laurell girlond 

Ground. 

XXXIX. 

' But what art thou, O Lady ! which 

doest rauuge 
In this wilde forest, where no pleasure is, 
And doest not it for joyous court 

exchaunge, 
Emongst thine equall peres, where happy 

blis 
And all delight does raigne, much more 

then this ? 
There thou maist love, and dearly loved 

be, 
And swim in pleasure, which thou here 

doest mis : 
There maist thou best be scene, and best 

maist see : 
The wood is fit for beasts, the court is 

fitt for thee.' 



' Who-so in pompe of prowd estate ' 

(quoth she) 
* Does swim, and bathes him selfe in 

courtly blis. 
Does waste his dayes in darke obscuritee. 
And in oblivion ever buried is; 
Where ease abowuds yt's eath to doe amis : 
But who his limbs with labours, and his 

mynd 
Behaves with cares, cannot so easy mis. 
Abroad in armes, at home in studious 

kynd, 
AVho seekes with painfull toile shall honor 

soonest fynd : 

XLI. 

' In woods, in waves, in warres, she 

wonts to dwell. 
And wil be found with perill and with 

paine ; 
Ne can the man that moulds in ydle cell 
Unto her happy mansion attaine : 
Before her gate high God did Sweate 

ordaine, 
And wakef ull watches ever to abide ; 
But easy is the way and passage plaine 
To pleasures pallace : it may soone be 

spide, 



And day and night her dores to all stand 
open wide. 

XLII. 

' In Princes court ' — the rest she would 

have sayd. 
But that the foolish man, fild with 

delight 
Of her sweete words that all his sence 

dismayd. 
And with her wondrous beauty ravisht 

quight, 
Gan burne in filthy lust; and, leaping 

light. 
Thought in his bastard armes her to 

embrace. 
With that she, swarviug backs, her 

Javelin bright 
Against him bent, and fiercely did menace : 
So turned her about, and fled away apace. 

XLIII. 

Which when the Pesaunt saw, amazd 

he stood, 
And grieved at her flight; yet durst he 

nott 
Pursew her steps through wild unknowen 

wood : 
Besides he feard her wrath, and threatned 

shott. 
Whiles in the bush he lay, not yett 

forgott : 
Ne car'd he greatly for her presence 

vayne. 
But turning said to Trompart ; * What 

fowle blott 
Is this to knight, that Lady should 

agayne 
Depart to woods untoucht, and leave so 

proud disdayne.' 



' Perdy,' (said Trompart) ' lett her pas 

at will, 
Least by her presence daunger mote 

befall ; 
For who can tell (and sure I feare it ill) 
But that shee is some powre celestiall? 
For whiles she spake her great words did 

appall 
My feeble corage, and my heart oppresse, 
That yet I quake and tremble over-all.' 
'And I,' (said Braggadocchio) * thought 

no lesse, 
When first I heard her horn sound with 

such ghastlinesse. 



' For from my mothers wombe this 
grace I have 
Me given by eternall destiny, 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



123 



That earthly thing may not my corage 

brave 
Dismay with feare, or cause one foot to tiye, 
But either hellish f eends, or powres on hye : 
Which was the cause, when earst that 

home I heard, 
Weening it had beene thunder in the skye, 
I hid my selfe from it, as one affeard ; 
But, when I other knew, my self I boldly 

reard. 

XLVI. 

* But now, for feare of worse that may 
betide, 



Let us soone hence depart.' They soone 

agree : 
So to his steed he gott, and gan to ride 
As one unfitt therefore, that all might 

see 
He had not trayned bene in chevalree. 
Which well that valiaunt courser did 

discerne ; 
For he despisd to tread in dew degree, 
But chaufd and fom'd with corage tiers 

and Sterne, 
And to be easd of that base burden still 

did erne. 



CANTO IV. 

Guyon does Furor bind in chalnes, 

And stops occasion : 
Delivers Phaon, and therefore 

By strife is rayld uppon. 



In brave poursuitt of honorable deed, 
There is I know not (what) great 

difference 
Betweene the vulgar and the noble seed, 
Which unto things of valorous pretence 
Seemes to be borne by native influence ; 
As feates of armes, and love to entertaine : 
But chiefly skill to ride seemes a science 
Proper to gentle blood : some others faine 
To menage steeds, as did this vaunter, 

but in value. 

II. 

But he, therightfull owner of that steede, 
Who well couid menage and subdew his 

pride, 
The whiles on foot was forced for to yeed 
With that blacke Palmer, his most trusty 

guide, 
Who snff red not hiswandring f eete to slide ; 
But when strong passion, or weake flesli- 

linesse. 
Would from the right way seeke to draw 

him wide. 
He would, through temperaunce and sted- 

fastnesse. 
Teach him the weak to strengthen, and 

the strong suppresse. 



It fortuned, forth faring on his way. 
He saw from far, or seemed for to see, 
Some troublous uprore or contentious fray, 
Whereto he drew in hast it to agree. 
A mad man, or that feigned mad to bee. 
Drew by the heare along upon the grownd 
A handsom stripling with great crueltee, 



Whom sore he bett, and gor'd with many 

a wownd. 
That cheekes with teares, and sydes with 

blood, did all abownd. 



And him behynd a wicked Hag did 

stalke. 
In ragged robes and filthy disaray ; 
Her other leg was lame, that she no'te 

walke, 
But on a staffe her feeble steps did stay: 
Her lockes, that loathly were and hoarie 

gray, 
Grew all afore, and loosely hong unrold ; 
But all behinde was bald, and worne away, 
That none thereof could ever taken 

hold ; 
And eke her face ill-favourd, full of 

wrinckles old. 



And ever as she went her toung did 
walke 

In fowle reproch, and termes of vile 
despight. 

Provoking him, by her outrageous talke. 

To heape more vengeance on that wretched 
wight : 

Sometimes she raught him stones, wlier- 
with to smite. 

Sometimes her staffe, though it her one 
leg were, 

Withouten which she could not goe up- 
right ; 

Ne any evill meanes she did forbeare. 

That might him move to wrath, and indig- 
nation reare. 



124 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



[book II. 



VI. 

The noble Guyon, mov'd with great 

remorse, 
Approching, lirst the Hag did thrust away ; 
And after, adding more impetuous forse, 
His mighty hands did on the madman lay, 
And pluekt him backe ; who, all on fire 

streight way. 
Against him turning all his fell intent. 
With beastly brutish rage gan him assay, 
And smott, and bitt, and kickt, and 

scratcht, and rent, 
And did he wist not what in his avenge- 

ment. 

VII. 

And sure he was a man of mickle might, 
Had he had governaunceit well to guj'-de ; 
But, when the frantick fitt inflamd his 

spright, 
His force was vaine, and strooke more 

often wyde, 
Then at the aymed marke which he had 

eyde: 
And oft himselfe he chaunst to hurt 

un wares, 
Whylest reason, blent through passion, 

nought descryde ; 
But, as a blindfold Bull, at randon fares. 
And where he hits nought knowes, and 

whom he hurts nought cares. 



His rude assault and rugged handeling 
Straunge seemed to the knight, that aye 

with foe 
In fayre defence and goodly menaging 
Of ar'mes was wont to fight ; yet nathemoe 
Was he abashed now, not fighting so ; 
But more enfierced through his currish 

play. 
Him sternly grypt, and hailing to and fro. 
To overthrow him strongly did assay. 
But overthrew him selfe unwares, and 

lower lay : 

IX. 

^4.nd being downe the villein sore did 

beate 
And bruze with clownish fistes his manly 

face; 
And eke the Hag, with many a bitter 

threat. 
Still cald upon to kill him in the place. 
With whose reproch, and odious menace, 
The knight emboyling in his haughtie 

hart 
Kiiitt all his forces, and gan soone unbrace 
His grasping hold: so lightly did upstart, 
And drew his deadly weapon to maintaine 

his part. 



Which when the Palmer saw, he loudly 
cryde, 
* Not so, O Guyon ! never thinke that so 
That Monster can be maistred or de- 
stroy d : 
He is not, ah! he is not such a foe. 
As Steele can wound, or strength can over- 
throe. 
That same is Furor, cursed cruel wight. 
That unto knighthood workes much shame 

and woe : 
And that same Hag, his aged mother, hight 
Occasion ; the roote of all wrath and 
despight. 

XI. 

' With her, whoso will raging Furor 

tame, 
Must first begin, and well her amenage : 
First her restraine from her reprochfull 

blame 
And evill meanes, with which she doth 

enrage 
Her frantick Sonne, and kindles his corage; 
Then, when she is withdrawne or strong 

withstood, 
It's eath his ydle fury to aswage, 
And calme the tempest of his passion wood : 
The bankes are overflowue when stopped 

is the flood.' 

XII. 

Therewith Sir Guyon left his first em- 
prise. 
And, turning to that woman, fast her hent 
By the hoare lockes that hong before her 

eyes. 
And to the ground her threw : yet n'ould 

she stent 
Her bitter rayling and foule revilement. 
But still provokt her sonne to wreake her 

wrong ; 
But nathelesse he did her still torment. 
And, catching hold of her ungratious tonge 
Thereon an yron lock did fasten firme and 
strong. 

XIII. 

Then, when as use of speach was from 

her reft, 
With her two crooked handes she signes 

did make, 
And beckned him, the last help she had 

left ; 
But he that last left helpe away did take, 
And both her handes fast bound unto a 

stake, 
That she note stirre. Then gan her sonne 

to flye 
Full fast away, and did her quite forsake ; 
But Guyon after him in hast did hye, 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



And soone him overtooke in sad per- 
plexitye. 

XIV. 

In his strong amies he stifly him em- 

braste, 
Who him gainstriving nought at all pre- 

vaild; 
For all his power was utterly defaste, 
And furious fitts at earst quite weren 

quaild : 
Oft he re'nforst, and oft his foi'ces fayld, 
Yet yield he would not, nor his rancor 

slack. 
Then him to ground he cast, and rudely 

hay Id, 
And both his hands fast bound behind his 

backe, 
And both his feet in fetters to an yron 

racke. 

XV. 

With hundred yron chaines he did him 

bind, 
And hundred knots, that did him sore 

constraine ; 
Yet his great yron teeth he still did grind 
And grimly gnash, threatniug revenge in 

vaine : 
His burning eyen, whom bloody strakes 

did stain e, 
Stared full wide, and threw forth sparkes 

of fyre ; 
And more for ranck despight then for 

great paine, 
Shakt his long locks colourd like copper- 

wyre, 
And bitt his ta-^Tiy beard to shew his 

raging yre. 

XVI. 

Thus when as Guy on Furor had captivd, 
Turning about he saw that wretched 

Squyre, 
Whom that mad man of life nigh late 

deprivd. 
Lying on ground, all soild with blood and 

myre : 
Whom whenas he perceived to respyre, 
He gan to comfort, and his woundes to 

dresse. 
Being at last recured, he gan inquyre 
What hard mishap him brought to such 

distresse, 
And made that caytives thrall, the thrall 

of wretchednesse. 



With hart then throbbing, and with 
watry eyes, 
* Fayre Sir ' (quoth he) ' what man can 
shun the hap, 



That hidden lyes un wares him to surpryse? 
Misfortune waites advantage to entrap 
The man most wary in her whelming lap : 
So me weake wretch, of many weakest one, 
Unweeting and unware of such mishap, 
She brought to mischiefe through Occa- 
sion 
Where this same wicked villein did me 
light upon. 

XVIII. 

' It was a faithlesse Squire, that was the 

sourse 
Of all my sorrow and of these sad teares. 
With whom from tender dug of commune 

nourse 
Attonce I was upbrought ; and eft, when 

yeares 
More rype us reason lent to chose our 

Peares, 
Our selves in league of vowed love wee 

knitt ; 
In which we long time, without gealous 

feares 
Or faultie thoughts, contynewd as was 

fitt ; 
And for my part, I vow, dissembled not 

a whitt. 

XIX. 

' It was my fortune, commune to that 

age. 
To love a Lady fayre of great degree, 
The wliich was borne of noble parentage. 
And set in highest seat of dignitee. 
Yet seemd no lesse to love then lov'd to 

bee: 
Long I her serv'd, and found her faithfull 

still, 
Ne ever thing could cause us disagree. 
Love, that two harts makes one, makes 

eke one will ; 
Each strove to please, and others pleasure 

to fulfill. 



' My friend, hight Philemon, I did par- 
take 
Of all my love and all my privitie ; , 
Who greatly joyous seemed for my sake. 
And gratious to that Lady as to mee ; 
Ne ever wight that mote so welcome bee 
As he to her, withouten blott or l)lame ; 
Ne ever thing that she could think or see. 
But unto him she would impart the same. 
O wretched man, that would abuse so 
gentle Dame! 



' At last such grace I found , and meanes 
I wrought", 
That I that Lady to my spouse had wonne ; 



126 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Accord of friendes, consent of Parents 
sought, 

Aflfyaunce made, my happinesse begonne, 

There wanted nought but few rites to be 
donne, 

Which mariage make : that day too farre 
did seeme. 

Most joyous man, on whom the shining 
Sunne 

Did shew his face, my selfe I did esteeme, 

And that my falser friend did no less joy- 
ous deeme. 

XXII. 

* But ear that wished day his beame 

disclosd. 
He, either envying my toward good. 
Or of him selfe to treason ill disposd, 
One day unto me came in friendly mood, 
And told for secret, how he imderstood 
That Lady, whom I had to me assynd, 
Had both distaind her honorable blood. 
And eke the faith which she to me did 

bynd; 
And therefore wisht me stay till I more 

truth should fynd. 



'The gnawing anguish, and sharp gelosy, 
Which his sad speach infixed in my brest, 
Ranckled so sore, and festred inwardly. 
That my engreeved mind could find no 

rest, 
Till that the truth thereof I did out wrest ; 
And him besought, by that same sacred 

band 
Betwixt us both, to counsell me the best: 
He then with solemne oath and plighted 

hand 
Assurd, ere long the truth to let me under- 
stand. 

XXIV. 

* Ere long with like againe he boorded 

mee, 
Saying, he now had boulted all the floure, 
And that it was a groome of base degree. 
Which of my love was partener Para- 

moure : 
Who used in a darkesome inner bowre 
Her oft to meete : which better to approve. 
He promised to bring me at that howre, 
When I should see that would me nearer 

move. 
And drive me to withdraw my blind 

abused love. 

XXV. 

'This gracelesse man, for furtherance 
of his guile, 
Did court the handmayd of my Lady 
deare, 



Who, glad t' embosome his affection vile, 
Did all she might more pleasing to appeare. 
One day. to worke her to his will more 

neare, 
Hewoo'd herthus: Pryene, (soshehight,) 
What great despight doth fortune to thee 

beare, 
Thus lowly to abase thy beautie bright. 
That it should not deface all others lesser 

light? 

XXVI. 

' But if she had her least helpe to thee 

lent, 
T' adorne thy forme according thy desart. 
Their blazing pride thou wouldest soone 

have blent, 
And staynd their prayses with thy least 

good part ; 
Ne should faire Claribell with all her art, 
Tho' she thy Lady be, approch thee neare : 
For proofe thereof, this evening, as thou 

art, 
Aray thyselfe in her most gorgeous geare. 
That I may more delight in thy embrace- 

ment deare. 

XXVII. 

' The Mayden, proud through praise and 
mad through love. 
Him hearkned to, and soone her selfe 

arayd. 
The whiles to me the treachour did re- 
move 
His craftie engin ; and, as he had sayd, 
Me leading, in a secret corner layd. 
The sad spectatour of my Tragedie: 
Where left, he went, and his owue false 

part playd, 
Disguised like that groome of base degree. 
Whom he had feignd th' abuser of my 
love to bee. 

XXVIII. 

' Ef tsoones he came unto th' appointed 

place, 
And with him brought Pryene, rich 

arayd , 
In Claribellaes clothes. Her proper 

face 
1 not descerned in that darkesome shade. 
But weend it was my love with whom he 

playd. 
Ah God ! what horrour and tormenting 

griefe 
My hart, my handes, mine eies, and all 

assayd ! 
Me liefer were ten thousand deathes 

priefe 
Then wounde of gealous worme, and 

shame of such repriefe. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



127 



* I home refcourniug, fraught with fowle 

despight, 
And chawing vengeaunce all the way I 

went, 
Soone as my loathed love appeard in 

sight, 
With wrathfull hand I slew her innocent, 
That after soone I dearely did lament ; 
For, when the cause of that outrageous 

deede 
Demaunded, I made plaine and evident, 
Her faultie Handmayd, which that bale 

did breede, 
Confest how Philemon her wrought to 

chaunge her weede. 



* "Which when I heard, with horrible 

affright 
And hellish fury all enragd, I sought 
Upon myselfe that vengeable despight 
To punish: yet it better first I thought 
To wreake my wrath on him that first it 

wrought : 
To Philemon, false fay tour Philemon, 
I cast to pay that I so dearely bought. 
Of deadly drugs I gave him drinke anon. 
And washt away his guilt with guilty 

potion. 

XXXI. 

'Thus heaping crime on crime, and 

grief e on grief e. 
To losse of love adjoyning losse of 

frend, 
I meant to purge both with a third mis- 

chiefe. 
And in my woes beginner it to end : 
That was Pryene ; she did first offend, 
She last should smart : with which cruell 

intent. 
When I at her my murdrous blade did 

bend, 
She fled away with ghastly dreriment. 
And I, poursewing my fell purpose, after 

went. 

XXXII. 

* Feare gave her winges, and rage en- 

forst my flight ; 
Through woods and plaines so long I did 

her chace. 
Till this mad man, whom your victorious 

might 
Hath now fast bound, me met in middle 

space. 
As I her, so he me poursewd apace. 
And shortly overtooke : I, breathing yre. 
Sore chauffed at my stay in such a cace. 
And with my heat kindled his cruell fyre ; 



Which kindled once, his mother did more 
rage inspyre. 



* Betwixt them both they have me doen 
to dye. 
Through wounds, and strokes, and stub- 
borne handeliug. 
That death were better then such agony 
As griefe and fury unto me did bring; 
Of which in me yet stickes the mortall 

sting. 
That during life will never be appeasd! ' 
When he thus ended had his sorrowing, 
Said Guyon ; ' Squyre, sore have ye beene 

diseasd, 
But all your hurts may soone through 
temperance be easd.' 



Then gan the Palmer thus ; ' Most 

wretched man. 
That to affections does the bridle lend ! 
In their beginning they are weake and 

wan. 
But soone through suff'rance growe to 

fearefull end : 
Whiles they are weake, betimes with 

them contend ; 
For, when they once to perfect strength 

do grow. 
Strong warres they make, and cruell 

battry bend 
Gainst fort of Reason, it to overthrow : 
Wrath, gelosy, griefe, love, this Squyre 

have laide thus low. 

XXXV. 

'Wrath, gealosie, griefe, love, do thus 

expell : 
Wrath is a fire ; and gealosie a weede ; 
Griefe is a flood ; and love a monster fell ; 
The fire of sparkes, the weede of little 

seede, 
The flood of drops, the Monster filth did 

breede : 
But sparks, seed, drops, and filth, do thus 

delay ; 
The sparks soone quench, the springing 

seed outweed, 
The drops dry up, and filth wipe cleane 

away: 
So shall wrath, gealosy, griefe, love, die 

and decay.' 

xxxvi. 

'Unlucky Squire,' (saide Guyon) ' sith 
thou hast 
Falne into mischiefe through intemper- 
aunce, 



128 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Henceforth take heede of that thou now 

hast past, 
And guyde thy waies with warie gov- 

ernauuce, 
Least worse betide thee by some later 

chaunce. 
But read how art thou nam'd, and of 

what Ivin?' 
' Phaon I liight,' (quoth he) ' and do ad- 

vaunce 
Mine auncestry from famous Coradin, 
Who first to rayse our house to honour 

did begin. 

XXXVII. 

Thus as lie spake, lo! far away they 

spyde 
A varlet ronning towardes hastily, 
Whose flying feet so fast their way ap- 

plyde, 
That round about a cloud of dust did fly. 
Which, mingled all with sweate, did dim 

his eye. 
He soone approched, panting, breathlesse, 

whot, 
And all so soyld that none could him 

descry : 
His countenaunce was bold, and bashed 

not 
For Guyons lookes, but scornefull eye- 

glaunce at him shot. 

XXXVIII. 

Behind his backe he bore a brasen 

shield. 
On which was drawen faire, in colours 

fit, 
A flaming fire in midst of bloody field. 
And round about the wreath this word 

was writ. 
Burnt I doe hurne. Eight well beseemed 

it 
To be the shield of some redoubted knight ; 
And in his hand two dartes, exceeding 

flit 
And deadly sharp, he held, whose heads 

were dight 
In poyson and in blood of malice and 

despight. 

XXXIX. 

When he in presence came, to Guyon 
first 

He boldly spake ; ' Sir knight, if knight 
thou bee, 

Al)andon this forestalled place at erst, 

For feare of further harme, I counsell 
thee ; 

Or bide the chaunce at thine owne jeo- 
pardee.' 

The knight at his great boldnesse won- 
dered : 



And, though he scornd his ydle vanitee. 
Yet mildly him to purpose answered ; 
For not to grow of nought he it conjec- 
tured. 

XL. 

* Varlet, this place most dew to me I 
deeme, 

Yielded by him that held it forcibly : 

But whence should come that iiarme, 
which thou dost seeme 

To threat to him that mindes his chaunce 
t' abye?' 

' Ferdy,' (sayd he) ' here comes, and is 
hard by, 

A knight of wondrous powre and great 
assay. 

That never yet encountred enemy 

But did him deadly daunt, or fowle dis- 
may ; 

Ne thou for better hope, if thou his pres- 
ence stay.' 

XLI. 

'How hight he then,' (sayd Guyon) 

' and from whence ? ' 
' Pyrochles is his name, renowmed farre 
For his bold feates and hardy confidence, 
Full oft appro vd in many a cruell warre ; 
The brother of Cymochles, botli which arre 
The sonnes of old Aerates and Despight; 
Aerates, sonne of Phlegetonand Jarre; 
But Phlegeton is sonne of Herebus and 

Night ; 
But Herebus sonne of Aeternitie is hight. 



' So from immortall I'ace he does pro- 
ceede. 

That mortall hands may not withstand 
his might, 

Drad for his derring doe and bloody deed ; 

For all in blood and spoile is his delight. 

His am I Atin, his in wrong and right, 

That matter make for him to worke upon, 

And stirre him up to strife and cruell 
fight. 

Fly therefore, fly this fearefull stead 
anon. 

Least thy foolhardize worke thy sad con- 
fusion.' 

XLIII. 

'His be that care, whom most it doth 

concerne,' 
(Sayd he) ' but whither with such hasty 

flight 
Art thou now bownd? for well mote I 

disc erne 
Great cause, that carries thee so swifte 

and Jight.' 
' My Lord,' (quoth he) ' me sent, and 

streight behight 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



129 



To seeke Occasion, where so she bee: 
For he is all disposd to bloody fight, 
And breathes out wrath and hainous 

crueltee : 
Hard is his hap that first fals in his jeop- 

ardee.' 

XLIV. 

' Mad man,' (said then the Palmer) 

' that does seeke 
Occasion to wrath, and cause of strife: 
Shee comes unsought, and shonned fol- 
io wes eke. 
Happy! who can abstaine, when Rancor 

rife 
Kindles Revenge, and threats his rusty 

knife. 
Woe never wants where every cause is 

caught ; 
And rash Occasion makes unquiet life ! ' 
* Then loe ! wher bound she sits, whom 

thou hast sought,' 
Said Guyon : ' let that message to thy Lord 

be brought.' 

XLV. 

That when the varlett heard and saw, 
streight way 
He wexed wondrous wroth, and said ; 
' Vile knight, 



That knights and knighthood doest with 

shame upbray, 
And shewst th' ensample of thy childishe 

might, 
With silly weake old woman that did 

fight! 
Great glory and gay spoile, sure hast thou 

gott. 
And stoutly prov'd thy puissaunce here 

in sight. 
That shall Pyrochles well requite, I wott, 
And with tliy blood abolish so reproch- 

full blott.' 



With that one of his thrillant darts he 

threw, 
Headed with yre and vengeable despight. 
The quivering Steele his aymed end wel 

knew. 
And to his brest it selfe intended right : 
But he was wary, and, ere it empight 
In the meant marke, advaunst his shield 

atweene, 
On which it seizing no w^ay enter might. 
But backe rebownding left the forckhead 

keene : 
Eftsoones he fled away, and might no 

where be scene. 



CANTO V. 

Pyrochles does with Guyon fight, 
And Furors chayne untyes, 

Who him sore wounds : whiles Atin to 
Cymochles for ayd flyes. 



Who ever doth to temperaunce apply 
His stedfast life, and all his actions 

frame. 
Trust me, shal find no greater enimy 
Then stubborne perturbation to the 

same; 
To which right wel the wise doe give that 

name. 
For it the goodly peace of staled mindes 
Does overthrow, and troublous warre 

proclame : 
His owne woes author, who so bound it 

findes, 
As did Pyrochles, and it wilfully unbindes. 

II. 

After that varlets flight, it was not 

long 
Ere on the plains fast pricking Guyon 

spide 
Pne in bright arme§ gmbatteiled full 

strong, 



That, as the Sunny beames do glaunce 
and glide 

Upon the trembling wave, so shined 
bright. 

And round about him threw forth spark- 
ling fire, 

That seemd him to enflame on every side : 

His steed was bloody red, and fomed 

When with the maistring spur he did him 
roughly stire. 



Approching nigh, he never staid to 
greete, 

Ne chaff ar words, prowd corage to pro- 
voke. 

But prickt so fiers, that underneath his 
feete 

The smouldring dust did rownd about him 
smoke. 

Both horse and man nigh ?iblQ for to 
choke ; 



I30 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



And fayrly couching his steeleheaded 

speare, 
Him first saluted with a sturdy stroke: 
It booted nought Sir Guy on, comming 

neare, 
To thincke such hideous puissaunce on 

foot to beare ; 

IV. 

But lightly shunned it ; and, passing by, 
With his bright blade did smite at him so 

fell, 
That the sharpe Steele, arriving forcibly 
On his broad shield, bitt not, but glauuc- 

ing fell 
On his horse necke before the quilted sell. 
And from the head the body sundred 

quight. 
So him dismounted low he did compell 
Ou foot with him to matcheu equall fight : 
The truncked beast fast bleeding did him 

fowly dight. 

V. 

Sore bruzed with the fall he slow up- 
rose, 

And all enraged thus him loudly shent ; 

' Disleall Knight, whose coward corage 
chose 

To wreake it selfe on beast all innocent, 

And shund the marke at which it should 
be ment ; 

Therby thine armes seem strong, but 
manhood f rayl : 

So hast thou oft with guile thine honor 
blent; 

But litle may such guile thee now avayl. 

If wonted force and fortune doe me not 
much fayl.' 

VI. 

With that he drew his flaming sword, 

and strooke 
At him so fiercely, that the upper marge 
Of his sevenfolded shield away it tooke. 
And, glauncing on his helmet, made a 

large 
And open gash therein : were not his targe 
That broke the violence of his intent, 
The weary sowle from thence it would 

discharge ; 
Nathelesse so sore a buff to him it lent. 
That made him reele, and to his brest his 

bever bent. 



Exceeding wroth was Guyou at that 

blow. 
And much ashamd that stroke of living 

arme 
Should him dismay, and make him stoup 

so low, 



Though otherwise it did him litle harme : 
Tho, hurling high his yron braced arme. 
He smote so manly on his shoulder 

plate. 
That all his left side it did quite disarme ; 
Yet there the steel stayd not, but inly 

bate 
Deepe in his flesh, and opened wide a red 

floodgate. 

VIII. 

Deadly dismayd with horror of that 

dint 
Pyrochles was, and grieved eke entyre ; 
Yet nathemore did it his fury stint. 
But added flame unto his former fire, 
That wel nigh molt his hart in raging yre : 
Ne thenceforth his approved skill, to 

ward, 
Or strike, or hurtle rownd in warlike gyre, 
Remembred he, ne car'd for his saufgard, 
But rudely rag'd, and like a cruell tygre 

far'd. 



He hewd, and lasht, and foynd, and 

thondred blowes. 
And every way did seeke into his life ; 
Ne plate, ne male, could ward so mighty 

throwes. 
But yeilded passage to his cruell knife. 
But Guyon, in the heat of all his strife, 
Was wary wise, and closely did awayt 
Avauntage, whilest his foe did rage most 

rife: 
Sometimes athwart, sometimes he strook 

him stray t, 
And falsed oft his blowes t' illude him 

with such bayt. 



Like as a Lyon, whose imperiall powre 
A prowd rebellious Unicorn defyes, 
T' avoide the rash assault and wrathful 

stowre 
Of his fiers foe, him to a tree applyes, 
And when him ronning in full course he 

spyes, 
He slips aside ; the whiles that furious 

beast 
His precious home, sought of his en- 

imyes. 
Strikes in the stocke, ne thence can be 

releast, 
But to the mighty victor yields a bounte- 
ous feast. 

XI. 

With such faire sleight him Guyon 
often fayld. 
Till at the last all breathlesse, weary, 
faint. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



131 



Him spying, with fresh onsett he as- 

sayld, 
And kindling new his corage seeming 

queint, 
Strooke him so hugely, that through 

great constraint 
He made him stoup perforce unto his 

knee. 
And doe unwilling worship to the Saint, 
That on his shield depainted he did see : 
Such homage till that instant never 

learned hee. 

XII. 

Whom Guyon seeing stoup, poursewed 

fast 
The present offer of faire victory, 
And soone his dreadfull blade about he 

cast, 
Wherewith he smote his haughty crest so 

hye, 
That straight on grownd made him full 

low to lye ; 
Then on his brest his victor foote he 

thrust : 
With that he cryde ; ' Mercy ! doe me not 

dye, 
Ne deelue thy force by fortunes doome 

unjust, 
That hath (maugre ner spight) thus low 

me laid in dust.' 

XIII. 

Eftsoones his cruel hand Sir Guyon 

stayd, 
Tempring the passion with advizement 

slow, 
And maisti-ing might on enimy dismayd ; 
For th' equall die of warre he well did 

know: 
Then to him said ; ' Live, and alleagaunce 

owe 
To him that gives thee life and liberty ; 
And henceforth by this dales ensample 

trow. 
That hasty wroth, and heedlesse hazardry, 
Doe breede repentaunce late, and lasting 

infamy.' 

XIV. 

So up he let him rise; who, with grim 

looke 
And count'naunce sterne, upstanding, gan 

to grind 
His grated teeth for great disdeigne, and 

shook e 
His sandy lockes, long hanging downe 

behind. 
Knotted in blood and dust, for grief of 

mind 
That he in ods of armes was conquered : 
Yet in himselfe some comfort he did find, 



That him so noble knight had maystered ; 
Whose bounty more then might, yet both, 
he wondered. 



Which Guyon marking said ; ' Be 

nought agriev'd. 
Sir knight, that thus ye now subdewed 

arre : 
Was never man, who most conquestes 

atchiev'd. 
But sometimes had the worse, and lost by 

warre. 
Yet shortly gaynd that losse exceeded 

farre. 
Losse is no shame, nor to bee lesse then 

foe; 
But to bee lesser then himselfe doth 

mar re 
Both loosers lott, and victours prayse 

alsoe : 
Value others overthrowes who selfe doth 

overthrow. 

XVI. 

'Fly, O Pyrochles! fly the dreadfull 
warre 

That in thy selfe thy lesser partes do 
move ; 

Outrageous anger, and woe-working jarre, 

Direfull impatience, and hart-murdring 
love: 

Those, those thy foes, those warriours far 
remove. 

Which thee to endlesse bale captived lead. 

But sith in might thou didst my mercy 
prove. 

Of courtesie to mee the cause aread 

That thee against me drew with so im- 
petuous dread. 

XVII. 

' Dreadlesse,' (said he) ' that shall I 

soone declare. 
It was complaind that thou hadst done 

great tort 
ITnto an aged woman, poore and bare. 
And thralled her in chaines with strong 

effort, 
Voide of all succour and needful 1 comfort ; 
That ill beseemes thee, such as I thee see. 
To worke such shame. Therefore, I thee 

exhort 
To chaunge thy will, and set Occasion 

free. 
And to her captive sonne yield his first 

libertee.' 



Thereat Sir Guyon smylde ; * And is 
that all,' 



132 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



(Said he) * that thee so sore displeased 

hath ? 
Great mercy, sure, for to enlarge a thrall, 
Whose freedom shall thee turne to great- 
est scatli! 
Nath'lesse now quench thy whott emboyl- 

ing wrath : 
Loe ! there they bee ; to thee I yield them 

free.' 
Thereat he, wondrous glad, out of the 

path 
Did lightly leape, where he them bound 

did see, 
And gan to breake the bands of their 

captivitee. 

XIX. 

Soone as Occasion felt her selfe untyde, 
Before her sonne could well assoyled 

bee, 
She to her use returnd, and streight 

defyde 
Both Guyon and Pyrochles ; tli' one (said 

shee) 
Bycause he wonne ; the other, because 

hee 
Was wonne. So matter did she make of 

nought, 
To stirre up strife, and garre them dis- 
agree : 
But, soone as Furor was enlargd, she 

sought 
To kindle his quencht fyre, and thousand 

causes wrought. 



It was not long ere she inflam'd him so, 
That he would algates with Pyrochles 

fight, 
And his redeemer chalengd for his foe, 
Because he had not well mainteind his 

right. 
But yielded had to that same straunger 

knight. 
Now gan Pyrochles wex as wood as hee. 
And him affronted with impatient might: 
So both together tiers eugrasped bee, 
Whyles Guyon standing by their un- 
couth strife does see. 



Him all that while Occasion did provoke 
Against Pyrochles, and new matter 

fram'd 
Upon the old, him stirring to bee wroke 
Of his late wronges, in which she oft him 

blam'd 
For suffering such abuse as knighthood 

sham'd. 
And him dishabled quyte. But he was 

wise, 



Ne would with vaine occasions be in- 
flam'd ; 

Yet others she more urgent did devise ; 

Yet nothing could him to impatience 
entise. 

XXII. 

Their fell contention still increased 

more, 
And more thereby increased Furors 

might. 
That he his foe has hurt and wounded 

sore. 
And him in blood and durt deformed 

quight. 
His mother eke, more to augment his 

spight, 
Now brought to him a flaming fyer 

brond. 
Which she in Stygian lake, ay burning 

bright. 
Had kindled : that she gave into his 

bond. 
That armd with fire more hardly he mote 

him withstond. 

XXIII. 

Tho gan that villein wex so fiers and 

strong, 
That nothing might sustaine his furious 

f orse : 
He cast him downe to ground, and all 

along 
Drew him through durt and myre without 

remorse. 
And fowly battered his comely corse. 
That Guyon much disdeigued so loathly 

sight. 
At last he was compeld to cry perforse, 
' Help, O Sir Guyon ! helpe, most noble 

knight. 
To ridd a wretched man from handes of 

hellish wight ! ' 

XXIV, 

The knight was greatly moved at his 
playnt, 
And gan him dight to succour his dis- 

tresse, 
Till that the Palmer, by his grave re- 
stray nt, 
Him stayd from yielding pitifull redresse, 
And said ; ' Deare sonne, thy causelesse 

ruth repi-esse, 
Ne let thy stout hart melt in pitty vayne : 
He that his sorrow sought through wilful- 

nesse, 
And his foe fettred would release agayne. 
Deserves to taste his follies fruit, re- 
pented payne.' 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



^33 



Guyon obayd : So him away he drew 
From needlesse trouble of renewing 

fight 
Already fought, his voyage to poursew. 
But rash Pyrochles variett, Atin hight, 
When late he saw his Lord in heavie 

plight 
Under Sir Guyons puissaunt stroke to 

fall, 
Him deeming dead, as then he seemd in 

sight, 
Fledd fast away to tell his funerall 
Unto his brother, whom Cymochles men 

did call, 

XXVI. 

He was a man of rare redoubted might. 
Famous throughout the world for war- 
like prayse, 
And glorious spoiles, purchast in perilous 

fight: 
Full many doughtie knightes he in his 

dayes 
Had doen to death, subdewde in equall 

frayes 
Whose carkases, for terrour of his name. 
Of fowles and beastes he made the piteous 

prayes. 
And hong their conquerd armes, for more 

defame, 
On gallow trees, in honour of his dearest 

Dame. 

XXVII. 

His dearest Dame is that Enchaunter- 

esse, 
The vyle Aerasia, that with value de- 

lightes. 
And ydle pleasures in her Bowre of 

Blisse, 
Does charme her lovers, and the feeble 

sprightes 
Can call out of the bodies of fraile 

wightes ; 
Whom then she does transforme to mon- 
strous hewes. 
And horribly misshapes with ugly sightes, 
Captiv'd eternally in yron mewes 
And darksom dens, where Titan his face 

never shewes. 

XXVIII. 

There Atin fownd Cymochles so- 
journing. 
To serve his Lemans love : for he by 

kynd 
Was given all to lust and loose living, 
When ever his fiers handes he free mote 

fynd: 
And now he has pourd out his ydle mynd 
In daintie delices, and lavish joyes. 



Having his warlike weapons cast behynd. 
And flowes in pleasures and vaine pleasing 

toyes, 
Mingled emougst loose Ladies and lascivi- 
ous boyes. 

XXIX. 

And over him art, stryving to compayre 
With nature, did an Arber greeue dispred, 
Framed of wanton Yvie, flouring fay re, 
Throiigh which the fragrant Eglantine 

did spred 
His prickling armes, entrayld with roses 

red. 
Which daintie odours round about them 

threw : 
And all within with flowres was garnished, 
That, when myld Zephyrus emo'ngst them 

blew. 
Did, breath out bounteous smels, and 

painted colors shew. 



And fast beside there trickled softly 

downe 
A gentle streame, whose murmuring wave 

did play 
Emongst the pumy stones, and made a 

sowne, 
To lull him soft asleepe that by it lay : 
The wearie Traveller, wandring that way. 
Therein did often quench his thristy heat. 
And then by it his wearie limbes display. 
Whiles creeping slomber made him to 

forget 
His former payne, and wypt away his 

toilsom sweat. 



And on the other syde a pleasaunt grove 
W^as shott up high, full of the stately tree 
That dedicated is t' Olympick Jove, 
And to his sonne Alcides, whenas hee 
In Nemus gayned goodly victoree: 
Therein the mery birdes of every sorte 
Chaunted alowd their chearefull har- 

monee. 
And made emongst them selves a sweete 

consort, 
That quickned the dull spright with 

musicall comfort. 



There he him found all carelesly 

displaid. 
In secrete shadow from the sunny ray. 
On a sweet bed of lillies softly laid, 
Amidst a flock of Damzelles fresh and 

gay. 
That rownd about him dissolute did play 
Their wanton follies and light meriments : 



134 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Eveiy of which did loosely disaray 
Her upper partes of meet habiliments, 
And shewd them naked, deckt with many 
ornaments. 



And every of them strove with most 

delights 
Him to aggrate, and greatest pleasures 

shew: 
Some framd faire lookes, glancing like 

evening lights ; 
Others sweet wordes, dropping like honny 

dew; 
Some bathed kisses, and did soft embrew 
The sugred licour through his melting- 
lips: 
One boastes her beautie, and does yield 

to vew 
Her dainty limbes above her tender hips ; 
Another her out boastes, and all for tryall 

strips. 

XXXIV. 

He, like an Adder lurking in the weedes. 
His wandring thought in deepe desire 

does steepe. 
And his frayle eye with spoyle of beauty 

feedes : 
Sometimes he falsely faines himselfe to 

sleepe. 
Whiles through their lids his wanton eies 

do peepe 
To steale a snatch of amorous conceipt. 
Whereby close fire into his heart does 

creepe : 
So he them deceives, deceivd in his deceipt. 
Made dronke with drugs of deare voluptu- 
ous receipt. 



Atin, arriving there, when him he spyde 
Thus in still waves of deepe delight to 

wade, 
Fiercely approching to him lowdly cryde, 
'Cymochles; oh! no, but Cymochles 

shade, 
In which that manly person late did fade. 
What is become of great Aerates sonne ? 
Or where hath he hong up his mortall 

blade. 



That hath so many haughty conquests 

wonne ? 
Is all his force forlorne, and all his glory 

donne?' 

XXXVI. 

Then, pricking him with his sharp- 
pointed dart, 
He saide ; ' Up, up ! thou womanish weake 

knight. 
That here in Ladies lap entombed art, 
.Uumindfull of thy praise and prowest 

might, 
And weetlesse eke of lately wrought 

despight, 
Whiles sad Pyrochles lies on sencelesse 

ground. 
And groneth out his utmost grudging 

spright 
Through many a stroke and many a 

streaming wound. 
Calling thy help in vaine that here in 

joyes art dround.' 

XXXVII. 

Suddeinly out of his delightfull dreame 
The man awoke, and would have questioud 

more ; 
But he would not endure that wofull 

theame 
For to dilate at large, but urged sore. 
With perciug wordes and pittif ull implore, 
Him hasty to arise. As one affright 
With hellish feeuds, or Furies made up- 

rore. 
He then uprose, inflamd with fell despight. 
And called for his armes, for he would 

algates fight : 



They bene ybrought; he quickly does 

him dight, 
And lightly mounted passeth on his way ; 
Ne Ladies loves, ne sweete entreaties, 

might 
Appease his heat, or hastie passage stay ; 
For he has vowd to beene avengd that day 
(That day it selfe him seemed all too long) 
On him, that did Pyrochles deare dismay: 
So proudly pricketh on his courser strong. 
And Atin ay him pricks with spurs of 

shame and wrong. 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



135 



CANTO VI. 

Guyon is of immodest Merth 
Led into loose desyre ; 

Fights withCymochles, whiles his bro- 
ther burns in furious fyre. 



A HARDER lesson to learne Continence 
In joyous pleasure then in griev'ous paiue ; 
For sweetnesse doth allure the weaker 

seuce 
So strongly, that uneathes it can refraine 
From that which feeble nature covets 

faine : 
But griefe and wrath, that be her enemies 
And foes of life, she better can abstaine : 
Yet vertue vauntes in both her victories, 
And Guyon in them all shewes goodly 

maysteries. 

II. 

Whom bold Cymochles travelling to 
finde. 
With cruell purpose bent to wreake on him 
The wrath which Atin kindled in his 

mind. 
Came to a river, by whose utmost brim 
Way ting to passe , he saw whereas did swim 
Along the shore, as swift as glaunce of 

eye, 
A litle Gondelay, bedecked trim 
With boughes and arbours woven cun- 
ningly, 
That like a litle forrest seemed outwardly. 



And therein sate a Lady fresh and fay re, 
Making sweet solace to herself e alone: 
Sometimes she song as lowd as larke in 

ay re. 
Sometimes she laught, as merry as Pope 

Jone; 
Yet was there not with her else any one, 
That to her might move cause of meriment : 
Matter of merth enough, though there 

were none, 
She could devise ; and thousand waies 

invent 
To feede her foolish humour and vaine 

jolliment. 

IV. 

Which when far off Cymochles heard 
and saw, 
He lowdly cald to such as were abord 
The little barke unto the shore to draw, 
And him to ferry over that deepe ford. 
The merry mariner unto his word 



Sooue hearkned, and her painted bote 

streightway 
Turnd to the shore, where that same 

warlike Lord 
She in receiv'd; but Atin by no way 
She would admit, albe the knight her much 

did pray. 

V. 

Eftsoones her shallow ship away did 

slide. 
More swift then swallow sheres the liquid 

skye, 
Withouten oare or Pilot it to guide. 
Or winged canvas with the wind to fly: 
Onely she turnd a pin, and by and by 
It cut away upon the yielding wave, 
Ne cared she her course for to apply ; 
For it was taught the way which she 

would have. 
And both from rocks and flats it selfe 

could wisely save. 

VI. 

And all the way the wanton Damsell 

found 
New merth her passenger to entertains ; 
For she in pleasaunt purpose did abound, 
And greatly joyed merry tales to faine, 
Of which a store-house did with her 

remaine : 
Yet seemed, nothing well they her 

became ; 
For all her wordes she drownd with 

laughter vaine, 
And wanted grace in utt'ring of the same. 
That turned all her pleasaunce to a 

scoffing game. 

VII. 

And other whiles vaine toyes she would 

devize, 
As her fantasticke wit did most delight : 
Sometimes her head she fondly would 

agnize 
With gaudy girlonds, or fresh flowrets 

dight 
About her necke, or rings of rushes pliglit : 
Sometimes, to do him laugh, she would 

assay 
To laugh at shaking of the leaves light 



36 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Or to behold the water Avorke and play 
About her little frigot, therein making 
way. 

VIII. 

Her light behaviour and loose dalliaunce 
Gave wondrous great contentment to the 

knight, 
That of his way he had no sovenaunce, 
Nor care of vow'd revenge and cruell tight, 
But to weake wench did yield his martiall 

might : 
So easie was to quench his flamed minde 
With one sweete drop of sensuall delight. 
So easie is t' appease the stormy winde 
Of malice in the calme of pleasaunt 

woman-kind. 

IX. 

Diverse discourses in their way they 

spent; 
Mongst which Cy mochles of her questioned 
Both what she was, and what that usage 

ment, 
Which in her cott she daily practized ? 
' Value man,' (saide she) ' that wouldest be 

reckoned 
A straunger in thy home, and ignoraunt 
Of Phsedria, (for so my name is red) 
Of Phsedria, thine owne fellow servaunt; 
For thou to serve Acrasia thy selfe doest 

vaunt. 



' In this wide Inland sea, that hight by 

name 
The Idle lake, my wandring ship I row. 
That knowes her port, and thither sayles 

by ayme, 
Ne care, ne feare I how the wind do blow. 
Or whether swift I wend, or whether slow : 
Both slow and swift alike do serve my 

tourne ; 
Ne swelling Neptune ne lowd thundring 

Jove 
Can chaunge ray cheare, or make me ever 

mourne : 
My little boat can safely passe this perilous 

bourne.' 

XI. 

Whiles thus she talked, and whiles thus 

she toyd. 
They were far past the passage which he 

spake. 
And come unto an Island waste and voyd. 
That floted in the midst of that great lake ; 
There her small (iondelay her port did 

make, 
And that gay payre, issewing on the shore. 
Disburdned her. Their way they forward 

take 
Into the land that lay them faire before, 



Whose pleasaunce she him shewd, and 
plentifull great store. 



It was a chosen plott of fertile land, 
Emongst wide waves sett, like a litle nest, 
As if it had by Natures cunning hand 
Bene choycely picked out from all the rest, 
And laid forth for ensample of the best: 
No daintie flowre or herbe that growes on 

grownd. 
No arborett with painted blossomes drest 
And smelling sweete, but there it might be 

fownd 
To bud out faire, and throwe her sweete 

smels al arownd. 

XIII. 

No tree whose braunches did not bravely 

spring ; 
No braunch w^hereon a fine bird did not 

sitt ; 
No bird but did her shrill notes sweetely 

sing; 
No song but did containe a loA'ely ditt. 
Trees, braunches, birds, and songs, w^ere 

framed fitt 
For to allure fraile mind to carelesse ease : 
Carelesse the man soone woxe, and his 

weake watt 
Was overcome of thing that did him please ; 
So pleased did his wrathfull purpose faire 

appease. 

XIV. 

Thus when shee had his eyes and sences 
fed 
AVith false delights, and fild with pleas- 
ures vayn. 
Into a shady dale she soft him led. 
And layd him downe upon a grassy playn ; 
And her sweete selfe without dread or dis- 

dayn 
She sett beside, laying his head disarmd 
In her loose lap, it softly to sustayn. 
Where soone he slumbred fearing not be 

harmd : 
The whiles with a love lay she thus him 
sweetly charmd. 

XV. 

' Behold, O man! that toilesome paines 
doest take, 

The flowrs, the fields, and all that pleas- 
aunt growes. 

How they them selves doe thine ensample 
make, 

Whiles nothing envious nature them forth 
throwes 

Out of her fruitfull lap; how no man 
knowes, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



137 



They spring, they bud, they blossome fresh 

aud taire, 
And decke the world with their rich pora- 

pous showes ; 
Yet no man for them taketli paines or care, 
Yet no man to them can his caref ull paines 

compare. 

XVI. 

' The lilly, Lady of the tiowring field. 
The flowre-deluce, her lovely Paramoure, 
Bid thee to them thy fruitlesse labors yield, 
And soone leave off this toylsome weary 

stoure : 
Loe, loe ! how brave she decks her boun- 
teous boure, 
With silkin curtens aud gold coverletts, 
Therein to shrowd her sumptuous Bela- 

moure ; 
Yet nether spinnes nor cards, ne cares nor 

fretts. 
But to her mother Nature all her care she 
letts. 

XVII. 

' Why then doest thou, O man! that of 

them all 
Art Lord, and eke of nature Soveraine, 
Wilfully make thyself e a wretched thrall, 
And waste thy joyous howres in needelesse 

paine, 
Seeking for daunger and adventures vaine ? 
What bootes it al to have, and nothing 

use? 
Who shall him rew that swimming in the 

maine 
Will die for thrist, and water doth refuse ? 
Refuse such fruitlesse toile, and present 

pleasures chuse.' 



By this she had him lulled fast asleepe. 
That of no worldly thing he care did 

take: 
Then she with liquors strong his eies did 

steepe. 
That nothing should him hastily awake. 
So she him lefte, and did her selfe betake 
Unto her boat again, with which she clefte 
The slouthfull wave of that great griesy 

lake : 
Soone shee that Island far behind her 

lefte, 
And now is come to that same place where 

first she wefte. 



By this time was the worthy Guyon 

brought 
Unto the other side of that wide strond 
Where she was rowing, and for passage 

sought. 



Him needed not long call ; shee soone to 

bond 
Her ferry brought, where him she byding 

fond 
With his sad guide: him selfe she tooke 

aboord , 
But the Blacke Palmer suffred still to 

stond, 
Ne would for price or prayers once affoord 
To ferry that old man over the perlous 

foord. 

XX. 

Guyon was loath to leave his guide be- 
hind. 
Yet being entred might not backe retyre ; 
For the flitt barke, obaying to her mind. 
Forth launched quickly as she did desire, 
Ne gave him leave to bid that aged sire 
Adieu ; but nimbly ran her wonted course 
Through the dull billowes thicke as 

troubled mire. 
Whom nether wind out of their seat could 

forse 
Nor timely tides did drive out of their slug- 
gish sourse. 

XXI. 

And by the way, as was her wonted 
guize, 
Her mery fitt shee freshly gan to reare. 
And did of joy and jollity devize, 
Her selfe to cherish, and her guest to cheare. 
The knight was courteous, and did not for- 

beare 
Her honest merth and pleasaunce to par- 
take : 
But when he saw her toy, and gibe, and 

geare. 
And passe the bonds of modest merimake. 
Her dalliaunce he despis'd, and follies did 
forsake. 

XXII. 

Yet she still followed her former style. 
And said and did all that mote him delight. 
Till they arrived in that pleasaunt He, 
Where sleeping late she lefte her other 

knight. 
But whenas Guyon of that land had sight. 
He wist him selfe amisse, and angry said ; 
'Ah, Dame! perdy ye have not doen me 

right. 
Thus to mislead mee, whiles I you obaid : 
Me litle needed from my right way to have 

straid.' 

XXIII. 

' Faire Sir,' (quoth she) ' be not displeasd 

at all. 
Who fares on sea may not commaund his 

way, 
Ne wind and weather at his pleasure call : 
The sea is wide, and easy for to stray; 



138 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



The wind unstable, and doth never stay. 
But here a while ye may in safety rest, 
Till season serve new passage to assay: 
Better safe port then be in seas distrest.' 
Therewith she lauglit, and did her earnest 
end in jest. 

XXIV. 

But he, half e discontent, mote nathelesse 
Himselfe appease, and issewd forth on 

shore ; 
The joyes whereof and happy fruitful- 

uesse, 
Such as he saw she gan him lay before, 
And all, though pleasaunt, yet she made 

much more : 
The fields did laugh, the flowres did freshly 

spring. 
The trees did bud, and early blossomes 

bore ; 
And all the quire of birds did sweetly sing. 
And told that gardins pleasures in their 

caroling. 

XXV. 

And she, more sweete then any bird on 
bough. 
Would oftentimes emongst them beare a 

part, 
And strive to passe (as she could well 

enough) 
Their native musicke by her skilful art : 
So did she all that might his constant hart 
Withdraw from thought of warlike enter- 
prize, 
And drowne in dissolute delights apart. 
Where noise of armes, or vew of martiall 

guize. 
Might not revive desire of knightly exer- 
cize. 



But he was wise, and wary of her will. 
And ever held his hand upon his hart ; 
Yet would not seeme so rude, and thewed 

ill. 
As to despise so curteous seeming part 
That gentle Lady did to him impart : 
But, fairly tempring, fond desire subdewd. 
And ever her desired to depart. 
She list not heare, but her disports pour- 

sewd. 
And ever bad him stay till time the tide 

renewd. 

XXVII. 

And now by this Cymochles howre was 

spent. 
That he awoke out of his ydle dreme ; 
And, shaking off his drowsy dreriment, 
Gan him avize, howe ill did him beseme 
In slouthfull sleepe his molten hart to 

steme. 



And quench the brond of his conceived yre : 
Tho up he started, stird with shame ex- 
treme, 
Ne staled for his Damsell to inquire. 
But marched to the Strond there passage 
to require. 

XXVIII. 

And in the way he with Sir Guyon mett, 
Accompanyde with Phjedria the faire : 
Eftsoones he gan to rage, and inly frett. 
Crying; ' Let be that Lady debonaire, 
Thou recreaunt kuight, and soone thyselfe 

prepaire 
To batteile,if thou meane herlovetogayn. 
Loe, loe! already how the fowles hi aire 
Doe tlocke, awaiting shortly to obtayn 
Thy carcas for their pray, the guerdon of 

thy pay n.' 

XXIX. 

And therewithall he fiersly at him flew. 
And with importune outrage him assayld ; 
Who, soone prepard to field, his sword 

forth drew, 
And him with equall valew countervayld : 
Their mightie strokes their haberjeous 

dismayld, 
And naked made each others manly 

spalles ; 
The mortall Steele despiteously entayld 
Deepe in their flesh, quite through the 

yron walles, 
That a large purple streame adowne their 

giambeux falles. 



Cymochles, that had never mett before 
So puissant foe, with envious despight 
His prowd presumed force increased more, 
Disdeigning too bee held so long in fight. 
Sir Guyon, grudging not so much his might 
As those unknightly raylinges which he 

spoke. 
With wrathfull fire his corage kindled 

bright, 
Thereof devising shortly to be wroke, 
And doubling all his powres redoubled 

every stroke. 

XXXI. 

Both of them high attonce their handes 

enhaunst. 
And both attonce their huge blowes down 

did sway. 
Cymochles sword on Guyons shield 

yglaunst. 
And thereof nigh one quarter sheard 

away; 
But Guyons angry blade so fiers did play 
On th' others helmett, which as Titan 

shone, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



139 



That quite it clove his plumed crest in 

tway, 
And bared all his head unto the bone ; 
Wherewith astonisht, still he stood as 

sencelesse stone. 

XXXII. 

Still as he stood, fayre Phaedria, that 

beheld 
That deadly daunger, soone atweene them 

ran ; 
And at their feet her selfe most humbly 

feld, 
Crying with pitteous voyce, and couut'- 

nance wan, 
'Ah, well away! most noble Lords, how 

can 
Your cruell eyes endure so pitteous sight. 
To shed your lives on ground ? Wo worth 

the man. 
That first did teach the cursed Steele to 

bight 
In his owne flesh, and make way to the 

living spright ! 

xxxm. 

' If ever love of Lady did empierce 
Your yron brestes, or pittie could find 

place, 
Withhold your bloody handes from bat- 

taill fierce ; 
And, sith for me ye fight, to me this grace 
Both yield, to stay your deadlj^ stryfe a 

space.' 
They stayd a while, and forth she gan pro- 

ceede : 
* Most wretched woman and of wicked race , 
Tliat am the authour of this hainous deed, 
And cause of death betweeue two doughtie 

knights do breed ! 

XXXIV. 

' But, if for me ye fight, or me will serve. 
Not this rude kynd of battaill, nor these 

armes 
Are meet, the which doe men in bale to 

sterve, 
And doolefull sorrow heape wuth deadly 

harmes : 
Such cruell game my scarmoges disarmes. 
Another warre, and other weapons, I 
Doe love, where love does give his sweet 

Alarmes 
Without bloodshed, and where the enimy 
Does yield unto his foe a pleasaunt victory. 

XXXV. 

* Debatef ull strife, and cruell enmity. 
The famous name of knighthood fowly 
sheud ; 



But lovely peace, and gentle amity, 

And in Amours the passing howres to 

spend, 
The mightie martiall handes doe most 

commend : 
Of love they ever greater glory bore 
Then of their armes; Mars is Cupidoes 

freud. 
And is for Venus loves renowmed more 
Then all his wars and spoiles, the which 

he did of yore.' 



Therewith she sweetly smyld. They, 

though full bent 
To prove extremities of bloody fight. 
Yet at her speach their rages gan relent, 
And calme the sea of their tempestuous 

spight. 
Such powre have pleasing wordes : such is 

the might 
Of courteous clemency in gentle hart. 
Now after all was ceast, the Faery knight 
Besought that Damzell suffer hini depart. 
And yield him ready passage to that other 

part. 

XXXVII. 

She no lesse glad then he desirous was 
Of his departure thence : for of her joy 
And vaine delight she saw he light did 

pas, 
A foe of folly and immodest toy. 
Still solemne sad, or still disdainfull coy; 
Delighting all in armes and cruell warre, 
That her sweet peace and pleasures did 

annoy, 
Troubled with terrour and unquiet jarre. 
That she well pleased was thence to amove 

him farre. 



Tho him she brought abord, and her 
swift bote 

Forthwith directed to that further strand ; 

The which on the dull waves did lightly 
flote. 

And soone arrived on the shallow sand , 

Where gladsome Guyon sailed forth to 
land, 

And to that Damsell thankes gave for re- 
ward. 

Upon that shore he spyed Atin stand. 

There by his maisterleft, when late he 
far'd 

In Phaedrias flitt barck over that perlous 
shard. 

XXXIX. 

Well could he him remember, sith of late 
He with Pyrochles sharp debatement 
made: 



140 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Streight gan he him revyle, and bitter 

rate, 
As Shepheardes curre, that in darke even- 

inges shade 
Hath tracted forth some salvage beastes 

trade : 
' Vile Miscreauut,' (said he) ' whither dost 

thou flye 
The shame and death, which will the soone 

invade? 
What coAvard hand shall doe thee next to 

(lye, 
That art thus fowly fledd from famous 

euimy ? ' 

XL. 

With that he stifly shooke his steelhead 

dart: 
But sober Guyon, hearing him so rayle, 
Though somewhat moved in his mightie 

hart, 
Yet with strong reason maistred passion 

fraile. 
And passed fayrely forth. He, turning 

taile, 
Back to the strond i-etyrd, and there still 

stayd. 
Awaiting passage which him late did faile ; 
The whiles Cyraochles with that wanton 

mayd 
The hasty heat of his avowd revenge 

delayd. 

XLT. 

Why lest there the varlet stood, he saw 

from farre 
An armed knight that towardes him fast 

ran; 
He ran on foot, as if in lucklesse warre 
His forlorne steed from him the victour 

wan : 
He seemed breathlesse, hartlesse, faint, 

and wan ; 
And all his armour sprinckled was with 

blood, 
And soyld with durtie gore, that no man 

can 
Discerne the hew thereof. He never stood. 
But Dent his hastie course towardes the 

ydle flood. 



The varlett saw, when to the flood he 

came, 
How without stop or stay he fiersly lept. 
And deepe him selfe beducked in the same, 
That in the lake his loftie crest was stept, 
Ne of his safetie seemed care he kept ; 
But with his raging amies he rudely flasht 
The waves about, and all his armour swept. 
That all the blood and filth away was 

washt ; 



Yet still he bet the water, and the bil- 
lowes dasht. 

XLIII. 

Atin drew nigh to weet what it mote bee, 
For much he wondred at that uncouth 

sight : 
Whom should he but his owne deare Lord 

there see, 
His owne deare Lord Pyrochles in sad 

plight. 
Ready to drowne him selfe for fell de- 

spight : 
' Harrow now out, and well away ! ' he 

cryde, 
' What dismall day hath lent this cursed 

light. 
To see my Lord so deadly damnif yde ? 
Pyrochles, O Pyrochles! what is thee be- 

tyde ? ' 

XLIV. 

' I burne, I burne, I burne ! ' then lowd 
he cryde, 
' O ! how I burne with implacable fyre ; 
Yet nought can quench mine inly flaming 

syde, 
Nor sea of licour cold, nor lake of myre : 
Nothing but death can doe me to respyre.' 
'Ah! be it,' (said he) 'from Pyrochles 

farre 
After pursewing death once to requyre. 
Or think, that ought those puissant hands 

may marre : 
Death is for wretches borne under un- 
happy starre.' 



' Perdye, then is it fitt for me,' (said he) 
' That am, I weene, most wretched man 

alive ; 
Burning in flames, yet no flames can I 

see. 
And dying dayly, dayly yet revive. 
O Atin ! helpe to me last death to give.' 
The varlet at his plaint was grieved so 

sore, 
That his deepe wounded hart in two did 

rive ; 
And, his owne health remembring now no 

more, 
Did follow that ensample which he blam'd 

afore. 

XLVI. 

Into the lake he lept his Lord to ayd, 
(So Love the dread of daunger doth de- 
spise) 
And of him catching hold him strongly 

stayd 
From drowning. But more happy he then 
wise. 



i 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



141 



Of that seas nature did him not avise : 
The waves thereof so slow and sluggish 

were, 
Engrost with mud which did them fowle 

agrise, 
That every weighty thing they did up- 

beare, 
Ne ought mote ever sinck downe to the 

bottom there. 

XLVII. 

Whiles thus they strugled in that ydle 

wave, 
And strove in vaine, the one him selfe to 

drowne, 
The other both from drowning for to save, 
Lo! to that shore one in an auucieut 

gowne. 
Whose hoary locks great gravitie did 

crowne, 
Holding in hand a goodly arming sword, 
By fortune came, ledd with the troublous 

sowne : 
Where drenched deepe he fownd in that 

dull ford 
The carefull servaunt stryving with his 

raging Lord. 

XLVIII. 

Him Atin spying knew right well of 
yore, 
And lowdly cald ; * Help, helpe ! O Archi- 



To save my Lord in wretched plight for- 

lore; 
Helpe with thy hand, or with thy counsell 

sage: 
Weake handes, but counsell is most strong 

in age.' 
Him when the old man saw, he wondred 

sore 
To see Pyrochles there so rudely rage ; 
Yet sithens helpe, he saw, he needed 

more 
Then pitty, he in hast approched to the 

shore, 

XLIX. 

And cald; 'Pyrochles! what is this I 
see? 



What hellish fury hath at earst thee 
hent? 

Furious ever I thee knew to bee. 

Yet never in this straunge astonish- 
ment.' 

' These flames, these flames ' (he cryde) 
' doe me torment.' 

' Wha flames,' (quoth he), when I thee 
present see 

In daunger rather to be drent then brent ? ' 

' Harrow! the flames which me consume,' 
(said hee) 

* Ne can be quencht, witliin my secret 
bowelles bee. 

L. 

* That cursed man, that cruel feend of 

hell, 
Furor, oh! Furor hath me thus bedight: 
His deadly woundes within my liver 

swell. 
And his whott fyre burnes in mine en- 

tralles bright, 
Kindled through his infernall brond of 

spight, 
Sith late with him I b£^ luill vaine would 

boste ; 
That now, I weene, Joves dreaded thunder 

light 
Does scorch not halfe so sore, nor damned 

ghoste 
In flaming Phlegeton does not so felly 

roste.' 



Which when as Archimago heard, his 

griefe 
He knew right well, and him attonce dis- 
arm 'd ; 
Then searcht his secret woundes, and 

made a priefe 
Of every place that was with bruzing 

harmd. 
Or with the hidden fire too inly warmd. 
Which doen, he balmes and herbes thereto 

applyde. 
And evermore with mightie spek them 

charmd ; 
That in short space he has them qualifVde, 
And him restor'd to helth that would have 

algates dyde. 



142 



The faerie queene. 



[book II. 



CANTO VII. 

Guyon findes Mamon in a delve 
Sunning- his threasure hore ; 

Is by him tempted, and led downe 
To see his secrete store. 



As Pilot well expert in perilous wave, 
That to a stedfast starre his course hath 

bent, 
When foggy raistes or cloudy tempests have 
The faithfull light of that faire lampe 

yblent, 
And cover'd heaven with hideous dreri- 

ment, 
Upon his card and compas firmes his eye, 
The maysters of his long experiment, 
And to them does the steddy helme apply. 
Bidding his winged vessell fairely for- 
ward fly: 

11. 

So Guyon having lost his trustie guyde, 
Late left beyond that Ydle lake, pro- 

ceedes 
Yet on his way, of none accompanyde ; 
And evermore himselfe with comfort 

feedes 
Of his own vertues and praise-worthie 

deedes. 
So, long he yode, yet no adventure found. 
Which fame of her shrill trompet worthy 

reedes ; 
For still he traveild through wide wast- 

fuU ground, 
That nought but desert wildernesse 

shewed all around. 



At last he came unto a gloomy glade, 
Cover'd with boughes and shrubs from 

heavens light. 
Whereas he sitting found in secret shade 
An uncouth, salvage, and uncivile wiglit. 
Of griesly hew and fowle ill favour'd 

sight ; 
His face with smoke was tand, and eies 

were bleard, 
His head and beard with sout were ill 

bedight, 
His cole-blacke hands did seeme to have 

ben seard 
In smythes fire-spitting forge, and nayles 

like clawes appeard. 



His yron cote, all overgrowne with rust, 
Was underneath enveloped with gold ; 



Whose glistring glosse, darkned with 

filthy dust, 
Well yet appeared to have beene of old 
A worke of rich entayle and curious 

mould, 
Woven with antickes and wyld ymagery ; 
And in his lap a masse of coynehe told, 
And turned upside downe, to feede his 

eye 
And covetous desire with his huge 

threasury. 

v. 
And round about him lay on every side 
Great heapes of gold that never could be 

spent ; 
Of which some were rude owre, not puri- 

fide 
Of Mulcibers devouring element ; 
Some others were new driven, and dis- 
tent 
Into great Ingowes and to wedges square ; 
Some in round plates withouten moni- 

ment ; 
But most were stampt, and in their metal 

bare 
The antique shapes of kings and kesars 

straunge and rare. 



Soone as he Guyon saw, in great affright 
And haste he rose for to remove aside 
Those pretious hils from straungers envi- 
ous sight, 
And downe them poured through an hole 

full wide 
Into the hollow earth, them there to 

hide. 
But Guyon, lightly to him leaping, stayd 
His hand that trembled as one terrifyde ; 
And though himselfe were at the sight 

dismayd. 
Yet him perforce restraynd, and to him 
doubtfull sayd: 

^ VII. 

' What art tlibu, man, (if man at all thou 

art) 
That here in desert hast thine habitaunce, 
And these rich hils of welth doest hide 

apart 
From the worldes eye, and from her right 

usaunce ? ' 



i 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



143 



Thereat, with staring eyes fixed askaunce, 
In great disdaine he auswerd : ' Hardy 

Elfe, 
That darest view my direfull counte- 

naunce, 
I read thee rash and heedlesse of thy selfe, 
To trouble my still seate, and heapes of 

pretious pelfe. 



' God of the world and worldlings I me 
call, 
Great Mammon, greatest god Irelow the 

skye, 
That of my plenty ponre out unto all, 
And unto none my graces do euvye : 
Riches, renowme, and principality, 
Honour, estate, and all this worldes good, 
For which men swinck and sweat inces- 
santly. 
Fro me do flow into an ample flood. 
And in the hollow earth have their eternall 
brood. 



' Wherefore, if me thou deigne to serve 

and sew. 
At thy commaund lo ! all these mountaines 

bee: 
Or if to thy great mind, or greedy vew. 
All these may not suffise, there shall to thee 
Ten times so much be nombred francke 

and free.' 
'Mammon,' (said he) 'thy godheads 

vaunt is vaine. 
And idle offers of thy golden fee ; 
To them that covet such eye-glutting gaine 
Proffer thy giftes, and fitter servaunts 

entertaine. 

X. 

' Me ill besits, that in der-doing armes 
And honours suit my vowed dales do spend , 
Unto thy bounteous baytes and pleasing 

charmes. 
With which weake men thou witchest, to 

attend ; 
Regard of worldly mucke doth fowly 

blend, 
And low abase the high heroicke spright. 
That joyes for crownes and kingdomes to 

contend : 
Faire shields, gay steedes, bright armes 

be my delight ; 
Those be the riches fit for an advent'rous 

kuight.' 

XI. 

' Vaine glorious Elfe,' (saide he) * doest 

not thou weet, 
That money can thy wantes at will supply ? 
Sheilds, steeds, and armes, and all things 

for thee meet, 



It can purvay in twinekling of an eye ; 

And crownes and kingdomes to thee mul- 
tiply. 

Do not I kings create, and throw the 
crowne 

Sometimes to him that low in dust doth ly. 

And him that raignd into his rowme thrust 
downe. 

And whom I lust do heape with glory and 
renowne ? ' 

XII. 

' All otherwise ' (saide he) ' I riches 

read. 
And deeme them roote of all disquietnesse ; 
First got with guile, and then preserv'd 

with dread. 
And after spent with pride and lavish- 

nesse. 
Leaving behind them griefe and heavi- 

nesse : 
Infinite mischiefes of them doe arize, 
Strife and debate, bloodshed and bitter- 

nesse. 
Outrageous wrong, and hellish covetize. 
That noble heart as great dishonour doth 

despize. 

XIII. 

' Ne thine be kingdomes, ne the scepters 
thine ; 

But realmes and rulers thou doest both 
confound. 

And loyall truth to treason doest in- 
cline : 

Witnesse the guiltlesse blood pourd oft 
on ground. 

The crowned often slaine, the slayer 
cround ; 

The sacred Diademe in peeees rent. 

And purple robe gored with many a wound , 

Castles surprizd, great cities sackt and 
brent : 

Somak'st thou kings, and gaynest wrong- 
full government. 

XIV. 

' Long were to tell the troublous stormes 

that tosse 
The private state, and make the life un- 

sweet : 
Who swelling sayles in Caspian sea doth 

crosse, 
And in frayle wood on Adrian gulf doth 

fleet, 
Doth not, I weene, so many evils meet.' 
Then Mammon wexing wroth ; * And why 

then,' sayd, 
' Are mortall men so fond and undiscreet 
So evill thing to seeke unto their ayd, 
And having notcomplaine, and having it 

upbrayd ? ' 



144 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



' ludeede,' (quoth he) ' throv;gh fowle 

intemperauiK'e, 
Frayle men are oft captiv'd to covetise ; 
But would they thinke with how small 

allowaunce 
Untroubled Nature doth her selfe suffise, 
Such superfluities they would despise, 
Which with sad cares empeach our native 

joyes. 
At the well-head the purest streames arise ; 
But mucky filth his braunching amies 

annoyes, 
And with uncomely weedes the gentle 

wave accloyes. 



' The antique world, in his first flowring 
youth, 
Fownd no defect in his Creators grace ; 
But with glad thankes, and unreproved 

truth, 
The guifts of soveraine bounty did em- 
brace : 
Like Angels life was then mens happy 

cace; 
But later ages pride, like corn-fed steed, 
Abusd her plenty and fat swolne encreace 
To all licentious lust, and gan exceed 
The measure of her meane and naturall 
first need. 

XVII. 

' Then gan a cursed hand the quiet 
wombe 
Of his great Grandmother with Steele to 

wound. 
And the hid treasures in her sacred tombe 
With Sacriledge to dig. Therein he fownd 
Fountaines of gold and silver to abownd, 
Of which the matter of his huge desire 
And pompous pride eftsoones he did com- 

pownd ; 
Then avarice gan through his veines in- 
spire 
His greedy flames, and kindled life- 
devouring fire.' 



'Sonne,' (said he then) *lett be thy 
bitter scorne, 
And leave the rudenesse of that antique 

age 
To them that liv'd therin in state forlorne : 
Thou, that doest live in later times, must 

wage 
Thy workes for wealth, and life for gold 

engage. 
If then thee list my offred grace to use, 
Take what thou please of all this sur- 
plusage ; 



If thee list not, leave have thou to refuse : 
But thing refused doe not afterward 
accuse.' 

XIX. 

' Me list not ' (said the Elfin knight) 
' receave 
Thing offred, till I know it well be gott; 
Ne wote I but thou didst these goods be- 
reave 
From rightfull owner by unrighteous lott, 
Or that bloodguiltinesse or guile them 

blott.' 
' Perdy,' (quoth he) ' yet never eie did vew, 
Ne tong did tell , ue hand these handled not ; 
But safe I have them kept in secret mew 
From hevens sight, and powre of al which 
them poursew.' 



* What secret place ' (quoth he) ' can 

safely hold 
So huge a masse, and hide from heavens 

eie? 
Or where hast thou thy wonue, that so 

much gold 
Thou canst preserve from wrong and 

robbery ? ' 
' Come thou,' (quoth he) ' and see.' So 

by and by 
Through that thick covert he him led, and 

fownd 
A darkesome way, which no man could 

descry, 
That deep aescended through the hollow 

grownd, 
And was with dread and horror compassed 

arownd. 



At length they came into a larger space, 
That stretcht itselfe into an ample playue ; 
Through which a beaten broad high way 

did trace, 
That streight did lead to Plutoes griesly 

rayne. 
By that wayes side there sate internall 

Payne, 
And fast beside him sat tumultuous Strife : 
The one in hand an yron whip did strayne. 
The other brandished a bloody knife ; 
And both did gnash their teeth, and both 

did threten life. 

XXII. 

On tbother side in one consort there sate 
Cruell Revenge, and rancorous Despight, 
Disloyall Treason, and hart-burning Hate ; 
But gnawing Gealosy, out of their sight 
Sitting alone, his bitter lips did bight ; 
And trembling Feare still to and fro did fly, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



145 



And found no place wher safe he shroud 

him might: 
Lamenting Sorrow did in darknes lye, 
And shame his ugly face did hide from 

living eye. 

XXIII. 

And over them sad horror with grim hew 
Did alwaies sore, beating his yron wings ; 
And after him Owles and Night-ravens 

flew, 
The hatefull messengers of heavy things, 
Of death and dolor telling sad tidings ; 
Whiles sad Celeuo, sitting on a clifte, 
A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings, 
That hart of flint asonder could have rifte ; 
Which having ended after him she flyeth 

swifte. 

XXIV. 

All these before the gates of Pluto lay. 
By whom they passing spake unto them 

nought ; 
But th' Elfin knight with wonder all the 

way 
Did feed his eyes, and fild his inner 

thought. 
At last him to a litle dore he brought, 
That to the gate of Hell , which gaped wide, 
Was next adjoyning, ne them parted 

ought : 
Betwixt them both was but a litle stride. 
That did the house of Richesse from hell- 
mouth divide. 

XXV. 

Before the dore sat selfe-consuming 
Care, 

Day and night keeping wary watch and 
ward, 

For feare least Force or Fraud should 
unaware 

Breake in, and spoile the treasure there 
in gard : 

Ne would he suffer Sleepe once thither- 
ward 

Approch, albe his drowsy den were next ; 

For next to death is Sleepe to be compard ; 

Therefore his house is unto his annext : 

Here Sleep, ther Richesse, and Hel-gate 
them both betwext. 

XXVI. 

So soon as Mammon there arrivd, the 

dore 
To him did open and affoorded way : 
Him followed eke Sir Guyon evermore, 
Ne darkenesse him, ne daunger might 

dismay. 
Soone as he eutred was, the dore streight 

way 



Did shutt, and from behind it forth there 

lept 
An ugly feend, more fowle then dismall 

day, 
The which with monstrous stalke behind 

him stept, 
And ever as he went dew watch upon him 

kept. 

XXVII. 

Well hoped hee, ere long that hardy 

guest. 
If ever covetous hand, or lustfull eye, 
Or lips he layd on thing that likte him 

best, 
Or ever sleepe his eie-strings did untye. 
Should be his pray. And therefore still 

on hye 
He over him did hold his cruell clawes, 
Threatning with greedy gripe to doe him 

dye, 
And rend in peeces with his ravenous 

pawes. 
If ever he transgrest the fatall Stygian 

lawes. 

XXVIII. 

That houses forme within was rude and 

strong, 
Lyke an huge cave hewne out of rocky 

clifte. 
From whose rough vaut the ragged 

breaches hong 
Embost with massy gold of glorious 

guifte. 
And with rich metall loaded every rifte, 
That heavy ruine they did seeme to 

threatt ; 
And over them Arachne high did lifte 
Her cunning web, and spred her subtile 

nett. 
Enwrapped in fowle smoke and clouds 

more black then Jett. 

XXIX. 

Both roofe, and floore, and walls, were 

all of gold, 
But overgrowne with dust and old 

decay, 
And hid in darkenes, that none could 

behold 
The hew thereof; for vew of cherefull 

day 
Did never in that house it selfe display, 
But a faint shadow of uncertein light: 
Such as a lamp, whose life does fade 

away. 
Or as the Moone, cloathed with clowdy 

night, 
Does show to him that walkes in feare 

and sad affright. 



146 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



In all that rowme was nothing to be 
seene 

But huge great yrou chests, and coffers 
strong, 

All bard with double bends, that none 
could weene 

Them to eff orce by violence or wrong : 

On every side they placed were along ; 

But all the grownd with sculs was scat- 
tered, 

And dead mens bones, which round about 
were flong ; 

Whose lives, it seemed, whilome there 
were shed, 

And their vile carcases now left unburied. 



They forward passe; ne Guyon yet 

spoke word. 
Till that they came unto an yron dore. 
Which to them opened of his owTie accord, 
And shewd of richesse such exceeding 

store, 
As eie of man did never see before, 
Ne ever could within one place be fownd, 
Though all the wealth which is, or was 

of yore. 
Could gathered be through all the vvorld 

arownd , 
And that above were added to that under 

grownd. 

XXXII. 

The charge thereof unto a covetous 
Spright 

Commaunded was, who thereby did at- 
tend, 

And warily awaited day and night. 

From other covetous feends it to defend. 

Who it to rob and ransacke did intend. 

Then Mammon, turning to that warriour, 
said; 

* Loe ! here the worldes blis : loe ! here 
the end, 

To which al men doe ayme, rich to be 
made: 

Such grace now to be happy is before 
thee laid.' 

XXXIII. 

'Certes,' (sayd he) * I n'ill thine offred 

grace, 
Ne to be made so happy doe intend : 
Another blis before mine eyes I place, 
Another happines, another end. 
To them that list these base regardes I 

lend ; 
But I in armes, and in atchievements 

brave, 
Do rather choose my flitting houres to 

spend, 



And to be Lord of those that riches have. 
Then them to have my selfe, and be their 
servile sclave.' 



Thereat the feend his gnashing teeth 

did grate. 
And griev'd so long to lacke his greedie 

pray ; 
For well he weened that so glorious bayte 
Would tempt his guest to take thereof 

assay ; 
Had he so doen, he had him snatcht 

away, 
More light then Culver in the Faulcons 

fist. 
Eternall God thee save from such decay ! 
But, whenas Mammon saw his purpose 

mist. 
Him to entrap unwares another way he 

wist. 

XXXV. 

Thence forward he him ledd, and 
shortly brought 
Unto another rowrae, whose dore forth- 
right 
To him did open, as it had beene taught. 
Therein an hundred rauuges weren pight. 
And hundred fournaces all burning bright : 
By every fournace many feendes did byde, 
Deformed creatures, horrible in sight ; 
And every feend his busie j)aines applyde 
To melt the golden metall, ready to be 
tryde. 

XXXVI. 

One with great bellowes gathered fill- 
ing ay re. 
And with forst wind the fewell did 

inflame ; 
Another did the dying bronds repayre 
AVith yron tongs, and sprinckled ofte the 

same 
With liquid waves, fiers Vulcans rage to 

tame. 
Who, maystring them, renewd his former 

heat : 
Some scumd the drosse that from the 

metall came ; 
Some stird the molten owre with ladles 

great ; 
And every one did swincke, and every 

one did sweat. 

XXXVII. 

But, when an earthly wight they pres- 
ent saw 
Glistring in armes and battailous aray, 
From their whot work they did them- 
selves withdraw 
To wonder at the sight ; for till that day 



CANTO VII. J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



147 



They never creature saw that cam that 
way: 

Their staring eyes sparckling with fer- 
vent lyre 

And ugly shapes did nigh the man dis- 
may, 

That, were it not for shame, he w'ould 
retyre ; 

Till that him thus bespake their soveraine 
Lord and syre ; 



'Behold, thou Faeries sonne, with mor- 
tall eye, 

That living eye before did never see. 

The thing, that thou didst crave so ear- 
nestly. 

To weet whence all the wealth late shewd 
by mee 

Proceeded, lo! now is reveald to thee. 

Here is the fountaine of the worldes good : 

Now, therefore, if thou wilt enriched bee, 

Avise thee well, and chaunge thy wilfull 
mood, 

Least thou perhaps hereafter wish, and 
be withstood.' 

xxxrx. 

' Suffise it then, thou Money God,' 

(quoth hee) 
' That all thhie ydle offers I refuse. 
All that I need I have : what ueedeth mee 
To covet more then I have cause to use ? 
AVith such value shewes thy worldlinges 

vyle abuse; 
But give me leave to follow mine emprise.' 
Mammon was much displeasd, yet no'te 

he chuse 
But beare the rigour of his bold mesprise ; 
And thence him forward ledd him further 

to entise. 

XL. 

He brought him, through a darksom 

narrow strayt. 
To a broad gate all built of beaten gold : 
The gate was open ; but therein did wayt 
A sturdie villein, stryding stiffe and bold, 
As if the highest God defy he would : 
In his right hand an yron club he held, 
But he himself e was all of golden mould, 
Yet had both life and sence, and well 

could weld 
That cursed weapon, when his cruell foes 

he queld. 

XLI. 

Disdayne he called was, and did dis- 

dayne 
To be so cald, and who so did him call : 
Sterne was his looke, and full of stomacke 

vayne ; 



His portaunce terrible, and stature tall, 
Far passing th' hight of men terrestrial!, 
Like an huge Gyant of the Titans race ; 
That made him scorne all creatures great 

and small, 
And with his pride all others powre de- 
face: 
More fitt emongst black fiendes then men 
to have his place. 



Soone as those glitterand armes he did 

espye. 
That with their brightnesse made that 

darknes light. 
His harmefull club he gan to hurtle hye, 
And threaten batteill to the Faery knight ; 
Wholikewiseganhimselfetobatteilldight, 
Till Mammon did his hasty hand withhold. 
And counseld him abstaine from perilous 

fight; 
For nothing might abash the villein bold, 
Ne mortall Steele emperce his miscreated 

mould. 

XLIII. 

So having him with reason pacifyde, 
And that fiers Carle commaunding to for- 

..beare, 
He brought him in. The rowme was 

large and wyde. 
As it some Gyeld or solemne Temple 

weare. 
Many great golden pillours did upbeare 
The massy roofe, and riches huge sus- 

tayne ; 
And every pillour decked was full deare 
With crownes, and Diademes, and titles 

value, 
Which mortall Princes wore whiles they 

on earth did rayne. • 

XLIV. 

A route of people there assembled were, 
Of every sort and nation under skye, 
AVhich with great uprore preaced to draw 

nere 
To th' upper part, where was advaunced 

hye 
A stately siege of soveraine majestye ; 
And thereon satt a woman, gorgeous gay 
And richly cladd in robes of royaltye, 
That never earthly Prince in such aray 
His glory did enhaunce, and pompous 

pryde display. 



Her face right wondrous faire did seeme 
to bee. 
That her broad beauties beam great 
brightues threw 



148 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



[book II. 



Through the dim shade, that all men 

might it see: 
Yet was not that same her owne native 

hew, 
But wrought by art and counterfetted 

shew, 
Thereby more lovers unto her to call : 
Nath'lesse most hevenly faire in deed and 

vew 
She by creation was, till she did fall ; 
Thenceforth she sought for helps to cloke 

her crime withall. 

XLVI. 

There, as in glistring glory she did sitt, 
She held a great gold chaine ylincked 

well, 
Whose upper end to highest heven was 

knitt, 
And lower part did reach to lowest Hell ; 
And all that preace did rownd about her 

swell 
To catchen hold of that long chaine, 

thereby 
To climbe aloft, and others to excell : 
That was Ambition, rash desire to sty. 
And every linck thereof a step of dignity. 



Some thought to raise themselves to 

high degree 
By riches and unrighteous reward ; 
Some by close shouldring ; some by flat- 

teree ; 
Others through friendes ; others for base 

regard, 
And all by wrong waies for themselves 

prepard : 
Those that were up themselves kept others 

low; 
Those that were low themselves held 

others hard, 
Ne suffred them to ryse or greater grow ; 
But every one did strive his fellow downe 

to throw. 

XLVIII. 

Which whenas Guyon saw, he gan in- 
quire. 
What meant that preace about that Ladies 

throne, 
And what she was that did so high aspyre ? 
Him Mammon answered ; ' That goodly 

one, 
Whom all that folke with such contention 
Doe flock about, my deare, my daughter 

is: 
Honour and dignitie from her alone 
Derived are, and all this worldes blis. 
For which ye men doe strive; few gett, 
but many mis : 



' And fay re Philotime she rightly hight, 
The fairest wight that wonneth under 

skie. 
But that this darksom neather world her 

_ light 
Doth dim with horror and deformity; 
Worthie of heveu and hye felicitie. 
From whence the gods have her for envy 

thrust : 
But, sith thou hast found favour in mine 

eye, 
Thy spouse I will her make, if that thou 

lust. 
That she may thee advance for works and 

merits just.' 



' Gramercy, Mammon,' (said the gentle 

knight) 
' For so great grace and off red high es- 

state ; 
But I, that am fraile flesh and earthly 

wight, 
Unworthy match for such immortallmate 
My selfe well wote, and mine unequall 

fate: 
And were I not, yet is my trouth yplight. 
And love avowd to other Lady late, 
That to remove the same I have no might : 
To chaunge love causelesse is reproch to 

warlike knight.' 

LI. 

Mammon emmoved was with inward 

wrath ; 
Yet, forcing it to fayne, him forth thence 

ledd, 
Through griesly shadowes by a beaten 

path, 
Into a gardin goodly garnished 
With hearbs and fruits, whose kinds mote 

not be redd : 
Not such as earth out of her fruitfuU 

woomb 
Throwes forth to men, sweet and well 

savored, 
But direfull deadly black, both leafe and 

bloom, 
Fitt to adorne the dead, and deck the 

drery toombe. 



There mournfull Cypresse grew in 
greatest store. 

And trees of bitter Gall, and Heben sad; 

Dead sleeping Poppy, and black Helle- 
bore; 

Cold Coloquintida, and Tetra mad ; 

Mortall Samnitis, and Cicuta bad, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



149 



With which th' unjust Atheuiens made to 

Wise Socrates ; who, thereof quaffing 

glad, 
Pourd out his life and last Philosophy 
To the fayre Critias, his dearest Belamy! 



The Gardin of Proserpina this higiit ; 
And in the midst thereof a silver seat, 
Wifli a thick Arber goodly over-dight. 
In which she often usd from open heat 
Her selfe to shroud, and pleasures to en- 
treat : 
Next thereunto did grow a goodly tree, 
With brauuches broad dispredd and body 

great, 
Clothed with leaves, that none the wood 

mote see. 
And loaden all with fruit as thick as it 
might bee. 

LIV. 

Their fruit were golden apples glistring 

bright, 
That goodly was their glory to behold ; 
On earth like never grew, ne living wight 
Like ever saw, but they from hence were 

sold; 
For those which Hercules, with conquest 

bold 
Got from great Atlas daughters, hence 

began , 
And planted there did bring forth fruit of 

gold ; 
And those with which th' Euboean young 

man wan 
Swift Atalanta, when through craft he 

her out ran. 

LV. 

Here also sprong that goodly golden 

fruit, 
With which Acontius got his lover trew, 
Whom he had long time sought with fruit- 

lesse suit : 
Here eke that famous golden Apple grew, 
The which emongst the gods false Ate 

threw ; 
For which th' Idfean Ladies disagreed, 
Till partiall Paris dempt it Venus dew. 
And had of her fayre Helen for his meed. 
That many noble Greekes and Trojans 

made to bleed. 



The warlike Elfe much wondred at this 

tree, 
So fayre and great that shadowed all the 

ground, 
And his broad braunches, laden ^i ith r-ch 

fee, 



Did stretch themselves without the utmost 

bound 
Of this great gardin, compast with a 

mound ; 
Which over-hanging, they themselves did 

steepe 
In a blacke flood, which flow'd about it 

round. 
That is the river of Cocytus deepe. 
In which full many soules do endlesse 

wayle and weepe. 

LVII 

Which to behold he clomb up to the 

bancke, 
And looking downe saw many damned 

wightes 
In those sad waves, which direfull deadly 

stancke, 
Plonged continually of cruell Sprightes, 
That with their piteous cryes, and yelling 

shrightes, 
They made the further shore resounden 

wide. 
Emongst the rest of those same ruefull 

sightes, 
One cursed creature he by chaunce espide. 
That drenched lay full deepe under the 

Garden side. 



Deepe was he drenched to the upmost 

chin. 
Yet gaped still as coveting to drinke 
Of the cold liquor which he waded in ; 
And stretching forth his hand did often 

thiuke 
To reach the fruit which grew upon the 

brincke ; 
But both the fruit from hand, and flood 

from mouth, 
Did fly abacke, and made him vainely 

swincke ; 
The whiles he sterv'd with hunger, and 

with drouth. 
He daily dyde, yet never throughly dyen 

coutii. 

LIX. 

The knight, him seeing labour so in 

vaine, 
Askt who he was, and what he ment 

thereby ? 
Who, groning deepe, thus answerd hira 

againe ; 
' Most cursed of all creatures under skye, 
Lo! Tantalus, I here tormented lye: 
Of whom high Jove wont whylome feasted 

j Lo ! here T now for want of food doe dye : 
I But, if that thou be such as 1 thee see, 



I50 



THE FAERIE QUEEXE. 



[book II. 



Of grace I pray thee, give to eat and 
drinke to meel ' 



*Nay, nay, thou greedy Tantalus,' 

(quoth he) 
' Abide the fortune of thy present fate ; 
And unto all that live in high degree, 
Ensample be of mind intemperate, 
To teach them how to use their present 

state.' 
Then gan the cursed wretch alowd to cry. 
Accusing highest Jove and gods ingrate ; 
And eke blaspheming heaven bitterly. 
As author of unjustice, there to let him 

dye. 

LXI. 

He lookt a litle further, and espyde 
Another wretch, whose carcas deepe was 

drent 
Within the river, which the same did 

hyde ; 
But both his handes, most filthy feculent. 
Above the water were on high extent, 
And faynd to wash themselves incessantly. 
Yet nothing cleaner were for such in- 
tent, 
But rather fowler seemed to tlie eye ; 
So lost his labour value and ydle industry. 

LXII. 

The knight him calling asked who he 

was? 
Who, lifting up nis head, him answerd 

thus ; 
'I Pilate am, the falsest Judge, alas! 
And most unjust; that, by unrighteous 
And wicked doome, to Jewes despiteous 
Delivered up the Lord of life to dye. 
And did acquite a murdrer felonous; 
The whiles my handes I washt in purity, 
The whiles ray soule was soyld with fowle 

iniquity.' 

LXIII. 

Infinite moe tormented in like paine 
He there beheld, too long here to be told : 
Ne Mammon would there let him long 

remayne. 
For terrour of the tortures manifold, 
In which the damned soules he did be- 
hold, 



But roughly him bespake : ' Thou feare- 

full foole. 
Why takest not of that same fruite of 

gold ? 
Ne sittest downe on that same silver 

stoole. 
To rest thy weary person in the shadow 

coole ? ' 

LXIV. 

All which he did to do him deadly fall 
In frayle intemperaunce through sinful! 

bayt ; 
To which if he inclyned had at all. 
That dreadfull feend, which did behinde 

him wayt, 
Would him have rent in thousand peeces 

strayt : 
But he was wary wise in all his way. 
And well perceived his deeeiptfuU sleight, 
Ne suffred lust his safety to betray. 
So goodly did beguile the Guyler of his 

pray. 

LXV. 

And now he has so long remained theare, 
That vitall powres gan wexe both weake 

and wan 
For want of food and sleepe, which two 

upbeare. 
Like mightie pillours, this frayle life of 

man, 
That none without the same endurencan : 
For now three dayes of men were full 

out wrought. 
Since he this hardy enterprize began : 
Forthy great Mammon fayrely he be- 
sought 
Into the world to guyde him backe, as he 
him brought. 

LXVI. 

The God, though loth, yet was con- 

straynd t' obay ; 
For lenger time then that no living wight 
Below the earth might suffred be to stay: 
So backe againe him brought to living 

light. 
But all so soone as his enfeebled spright 
Gan sucke this vitall ayre into his brest. 
As overcome with too exceeding might. 
The life did flit away out of her nest, 
And all his sences were with deadly fit 

opprest. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE A,ERIE QJE^E. 



^t 



ANTo vm. 

Sir Guyon, layd in swowne, is oy 

Aerates sonnes despoyld ; 
Whom Arthure soone h'ath reskewed, 

And Pa^^uim brethren foyld. 



I. 

And is there care in heaven ? And is 
there love 

In heavenly spirits to these creatures bace, 

That may compassion of their evilles 
move ? 

There is : else much more wretched were 
the cace 

Of men then beasts. But O ! th' exceed- 
ing grace 

Of highest God that loves his creatures 
so, 

And all his workes with mercy doth em- 
brace, 

That blessed Angels he sends to and fro. 

To serve to wicked man, to serve his 
wicked foe. 

II. 

How oft do they their silver bowers 

leave. 
To come to succour us that succour want ! 
How oft do they with golden piueons 

cleave 
The flitting skyes, like flying Pursuivant. 
Against fowle feendes to ayd us militant ! 
They for us fight, they watch and dewly 

ward, 
And their bright Squadrons round about 

us plant ; 
And all for love, and nothing for reward. 
O ! why should hevenly God to men have 

such regard ? 

iir. 

During the while that Guyon did abide 
In Mamons house, the Palmer, whom why- 

leare 
That wanton Mayd of passage had denide. 
By further search had passage found else- 
where ; 
And, being on his way, approched neare 
Where Guyon lay in traunce ; when sud- 

deinly 
He heard a voyce that called lowd and 

cleare, 
'Come hither! hither! O, come hastily! ' 
That all the fields resounded with' the 
ruefull cry. 

IV. 

The Palmer lent his eare unto the noyce. 
To weet who called so importunely : 
Againe he heard a naore efforced voyce, 



That bad him come in haste. He by and by 
His feeble feet directed to the cry ; 
Which to that shady delve him brought at 

last, 
Where Mammon earst did sunne his 

threasury ; 
There the good Guyon he found slumbring 

fast 
In senceles dreame; which sight at first 

him soi-e aghast. 

V. 

Beside his head there satt a faire young 

man, 
Of wondrous beauty and of freshest 

yeares, 
Whose tender bud to blossome new began, 
And florish faire above his equall peares : 
His snowy front, curled with golden 

heares, 
r.ike Phoebus face adornd with sunny 

rayes. 
Divinely shone; and two sharpe winged 

sheares, 
Decked with diverse pin les, like painted 

Jayes, 
Were fixed at his backe to cut his ayery 

wayes. 

VI. 

Like as Cupido on Idaean hill, 
When having laid his cruell bow away 
And mortall arrowes, wherewith he doth 

fill 
The world with murdrous spoiles and 

bloody pray, 
With his faire mother he him dights to 

play. 
And with his goodly sisters, Graces three : 
The Goddesse, pleased with his wanton 

play, 
Suffers her selfe through sleepe beguild to 

bee, 
The whiles the other Ladies mind theyr 

mery glee. 

VII. 

Whom when the Palmer saw, abasht he 

was 
Through fear and wonder that he nought 

could say. 
Till him the childe bespoke ; ' Long lackt, 

alas! 
Hath bene thy faithf ull aide in hard assay, 



152 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



[book II. 



Whiles deadly fitt thy pupill doth dismay. 
Behold this heavy sight, thou reverend 

Sire! 
But dread of death and dolor doe away ; 
For life ere long shall to her home retire, 
And he that breathlesse seems shal corage 

both respire. 



'The charge, which God doth unto me 

arrett, 
Of his deare safety, I to thee commend ; 
Yet will I not forgoe, ne yet forgett 
The care thereof my selfe unto the end. 
But evermore him succour, and defend 
Against his foe and mine : watch thou, I 

pray; 
For evill is at hand him to offend.' 
So having said, eftsooues he gan display 
His painted nimble wings, and vanisht 

quite away. 

IX. 

The Palmer seeing his lefte empty 

place. 
And his slow eies beguiled of their sight, 
Woxe sore affraid, and standing still a 

space 
Gaz'd after him, as fowle escapt by flight. 
At last, him turning to his charge behight, 
With trembling hand his troubled pulse 

gan try ; 
Where finding life not yet dislodged 

quight. 
He much rejoyst, and courd it tenderly. 
As chicken newly hatcht, from dreaded 

destiny. 

X. 

At last he spide where towards him did 

pace 
Two Paynim knights al armd as bright as 

skie. 
And them beside an aged Sire did trace. 
And far before a light- foote Page did flie, 
Ihat breathed strife and troublous enmi- 

tie. 
Those were the two sonnes of Aerates old. 
Who, meeting earst with Archimago slie 
Foreby that idle strond, of him were told 
That he which earst them combatted was 

Guyon bold 

XI. 

Which to avenge on him they dearly 

vowd, 
Where ever that on ground they mote him 

find: 
False Archimage provokte their corage 

pro wd , 
And stryful Atin in their stubborne mind 
Coles of contention and whot vengeaunce 

tind. 



Now bene they come whereas the Palmer 

sate. 
Keeping that slombred corse to him as- 

sind: 
Well knew they both his person, sith of 

late 
With him in bloody armes they rashly did 

debate. 

XII. 

Whom when Pyrochles saw, in flam 'd 

with rage 
That sire he fowl bespake : ' Thou dotard 

vile. 
That with thy brutenesse shendst thy 

comely age, 
Abandon soone, I read, the caytive spoile 
Of that same outcast carcas, that ere- 

while 
Made it selfe famous through false 

trechery, 
And crownd his coward crest with knightly 

stile ; 
Loe! where he now inglorious doth lye. 
To proove he lived il that did thus fowly 

dye.' 

XIII. 

To whom the Palmer fearlesse an- 
swered : 

' Certes, Sir Knight, ye bene too much to 
biame, 

Thus for to blott the honor of the dead. 

And with fowle cowardize his carcas 
shame. 

Whose living handes immortalizd his 
name. 

Vile is the vengeaunce on the ashes cold. 

And envy base to barke at sleeping fame. 

Was never wight that treason of him 
told: 

Your self his prowesse prov'd, and found 
him tiers and bold.' 



Then sayd Cymochles : ' Palmer, thou 

doest dote, 
Ne canst of prowesse ne of knighthood 

deeme, 
Save as thou seest or hearst. But well I 

wote. 
That of his puissaunce tryall made ex- 

treeme : 
Yet gold al is not that doth golden seeme ; 
Ne all good knights that shake well 

speare and shield. 
The worth of all men by their end es- 

teeme. 
And then dew praise or dew reproch them 

yield ; 
Bad therefore I him deerae that thus lies 

dead on field.' 



CANTO VIII,] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



153 



'Good or bad,' gan his brother fiers 

reply, 
'What doe I recke, sith that he dide 

entire ? 
Or what doth his bad death now satisfy 
The greedy hunger of revenging yre, 
Sith wrathfull hand wrought not her 

owne desire ? 
Yet since no way is lefte to wreake my 

spight, 
I will him reave of armes, the victors 

hire, 
And of that shield, more worthy of good 

knight ; 
For why should a dead dog be deckt in 

armour bright ? ' 

xvir 
' Fayr Sir,' said then the Palmer suppli- 

auut, 
' For knighthoods love doe not so fowle a 

deed, 
Ne blame your honor with so shamefull 

vaunt 
Of vile revenge. To spoile the dead of 

weed 
Is sacrilege, and doth all sinnes exceed : 
But leave these relicks of his living might 
To decke his herce, and trap his tomb- 

blacke steed.' 
' What herce or steed ' (said he) ' should 

he have dight, 
But be entombed in the raven or the 

kight ? ' 

XVII. 

With that, rude hand upon his shield he 

laid, 
And th' other brother gan his helme un- 
lace, 
Both fiercely bent to have him disaraid ; 
Till that they spyde where towards them 

did pace 
An armed knight, of bold and bounteous 

grace, 
AVhose squire bore after him an heben 

launce 
And coverd shield. Well kend him so far 

space 
Th' enchaunter by his armes and ame- 

naunce. 
When under him he saw his Lybian steed 

to praunce ; 



And to those brethren sayd ; ' Rise, rise 

bylive, 
And unto batteil doe your selves addresse ; 
For yonder conies the prowest knight 

alive, 



Prince Arthur, flowre of grace and 

nobilesse, 
That hath to Paynim knights wrought 

gret distresse, 
And thousand Sar'zinsfowlydounetodye.' 
That word so deepe did in their harts 

impresse. 
That both eftsoones upstarted furiously, 
And gan themselves prepare to batteill 

greedily. 

XIX. 

But fiers Pyrochles, lacking his owne 

sword. 
The want thereof now greatly gan to 

plaine. 
And Archimage besought, him that afford 
Which he had brought for Braggadochio 

value. 
' So would I,' (said th' enchaunter) ' glad 

and faine 
Beteeme to you this sword, you to defend. 
Or ought that els your honour might 

maintaine ; 
But that this weapons powre I well have 

kend 
To be contrary to the worke which ye 

intend : 

XX. 

' For that same knights owne sword 
this is, of yore 
W^hich Merlin made by his almightie art 
For that his noursling, when he knight- 
hood swore, 
Therewith to doen his foes eternall smart, 
The metall first he mixt with Medaewart, 
That no enchauntment from his dint might 

save ; 
Then it in flames of Aetna wrought apart. 
And seven times dipped in the bitter wave 
Of hellish Styx, which hidden vertue to it 
gave. 

XXI. 

'The vertue is, that nether Steele ncir 

stone ' 

The stroke thereof from entraunce may 

defend ; 
Ne ever may be used by his fone, 
Ne forst his rightful owner to offend ; 
Ne ever will it breake, ne ever bend : 
Wherefore Morddure it rightfully is hight. 
In value therefore, Pyrochles, should I 

lend 
The same to thee, against his lord to 

fight; 
For sure yt would deceive thy labor and 

thy might.' 

XXII. 

'Foolish old man,' said then the Pagan 
wroth, 



154 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II, 



' That weenest words or chai*ms may force 

withstond : 
Soone Shalt thou see, and then beleeve for 

troth, 
That I can carve with this inchauuted 

brond 
His Lords owne flesh.' Tlierewith out of 

his hond 
That vertuous Steele he rudely suatcht 

away, 
And Guyons shield about his wrest he 

bond: 
So ready dight fierce battaile to assay. 
And match his brother proud in battail- 
ous aray. 

XXIII. 

By this, that straunger knight in pres- 
ence came. 
And goodly salued them ; who nought 

againe 
Him answered, as courtesie became ; 
But with Sterne lookes, and stomachous 

disdaine, 
Gave sigues of grudge and discontentment 

vaine. 
Then, turning to the Palmer, he gan spy 
Where at his feet, with sorrowf nil demayne 
And deadly hew, an armed corse did lye. 
In whose dead face he redd great mag- 
nanimity. 

XXIV. 

Sayd he then to the Palmer : ' Reverend 

Syre, 
What great misfortune hath betidd this 

knight ? 
Or did his life her fatall date expyre, 
Or did he fall by treason, or by light? 
How ever, sure I rew his pitteous plight.' 
* Not one, nor other,' sayd the Palmer 

grave, 
' Hath him befalne ; but cloudes of deadly 

night 
A while his heavy eylids cover'd have, 
And all his sences drowned in deep sence- 

lesse wave : 

XXV. 

' Which those his cruell foes, that stand 
hereby. 

Making advauntage, to revenge their 
spight, 

Would him disarme and treaten shame- 
fully ; 

Unworthie usage of redoubted knight. 

But you, faire Sir, whose honourable 
sight 

Doth promise hope of helpe and timely 
grace. 

Mote I beseech to succour his sad plight. 

And by your powre protect his feeble 
cace? 



First prayse of knighthood is fowle out- 
rage to deface.' 

XXVI. 

' Palmer,' (said he) ' no knight so rude, I 

weene. 
As to doeu outrage to a sleeping ghost ; 
Ne was there ever noble corage seene, 
That in advauntage would his puissaunce 

host: 
Honour is least where oddes appeareth 

most. 
May bee, that better reason will aswage 
The rash revengers heat. Words, well 

dispost, 
Have secrete powre t' appease inflamed 

rage : 
If not, leave unto me thy knights last 

patronage.' 

XXVII. 

Tho, turning to those brethren, thus 
bespoke : 

' Ye warlike payre, whose valorous great 
might, 

It seemes, just wrouges to vengeaunce doe 
provoke. 

To wreake your wrath on this dead seem- 
ing knight, 

Mote ought allay the storme of your 
despight, 

And settle patience in so furious heat? 

Not to debate the chalenge of your right, 

But for his carkas pardon I entreat. 

Whom fortune hath already laid in lowest 
seat.' 

XXVIII. 

To whom Cymochles said ; ' For what 

art thou, 
That mak'st thy selfe his dayes-man, to 

prolong 
The vengeaunce prest ? Or who shall let 

me now 
On this vile body from to wreak my 

wrong. 
And made his carkas as the outcast dong ? 
Why should not that dead carrion satisfye 
The guilt which, if he lived had thus long. 
His life for dew revenge should dears 

abye ? 
The trespass still doth live, albee the 

person dye.' 

XXIX. 

' Indeed ,' then said the Prince, ' the evill 

donne 
Dyes not, when breath the body first doth 

leave ; 
But from the grandsyre to the Nephewes 

Sonne, 
And all his seede the curse doth often 

cleave, 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



155 



Till vengeaunce utterly the guilt bereave : 
So streigiitly God doth judge. But gentle 

Knight, 
That doth against the dead his hand 

upheave, 
His honour staines with rancour and 

despight, 
And great disparagment makes to his 

former might.' 



Pyrochles gan reply the second tyme, 
And to him said : ' Now, felon, sure I read, 
How that thou art partaker of his cryme : 
Therefore, by Termagaunt thou shalt be 

dead.' 
With that his hand, more sad then lomp 

of lead, 
Uplifting high, he weened with Morddure, 
His owne good sword Morddure, to cleave 

his head. 
The faithfull Steele such treason no'uld 

endure, 
But, swarving from the marke, his Lordes 

life did assure. 



Yet was the force so furious and so fell, 
That horse and man it made to reele 

asyde : 
Nath'lesse the Prince would not forsake 

his sell. 
For well of yore he learned had to ryde. 
But full of auger fiersly to him cryde ; 
' False traitour! miscreaunt! thou broken 

hast 
The law of armes to strike foe undefide : 
But thou thy treasons fruit, I hope, shalt 

taste 
Right sowre, and feele the law the which 

thou hast defast.' 



With that his balefull speare he fiercely 

bent 
Against the Pagans brest, and therewith 

thought 
His cursed life out of her lodge have 

rent; 
But ere the point arrived where it ought, 
That seven fold shield, which he from 

Guyon brought. 
He cast between to ward the bitter 

stownd : 
Through all those foldes the steelehead 

passage wrought. 
And through his shoulder perst; wher- 

with to ground 
He groveling fell, all gored in his gushing 

wound. 



Which when his brother saw, fraught 

with great griefe 
And wrath, he to him leaped furiously. 
And fowly saide : ' By Mahoune, cursed 

thiefe. 
That direfull stroke thou dearely shalt 

aby:' 
Then, hurling up his harmefull blade 

on by. 
Smote him so hugely on his haughtie 

crest. 
That from his saddle forced him to fly ; 
Els mote it needes downe to his manly 

brest 
Have cleft his head in twaine, and life 

thence dispossest. 

XXXIV. 

Now was the Prince in daungerous dis- 

tresse. 
Wanting his sword when he on foot should 

fight: 
His single speare could doe him small 

redresse 
Against two foes of so exceeding might, 
The least of which was match for any 

knight. 
And now the other, whom he earst did 

daunt. 
Had reard him selfe againe to cruel fight 
Three times more furious and more 

puissaunt, 
Unmindfull of his wound, of his fate 

ignorauut. 

XXXV. 

So both attonce him charge on either 

syde 
With hideous strokes and importable 

powre. 
That forced him his ground to traverse 

wyde. 
And wisely watch to ward that deadly 

stowre ; 
For in his shield, as thicke as stormie 

showre. 
Their strokes did raine : yet did he never 

quaile, 
Ne backward shrinke, but as a stedfast 

towre, 
Whom foe with double battry doth assaile. 
Them on her bulwarke beares, and bids 

them nought availe. 

XXXVI. 

So stoutly he withstood their strong as- 
say; 
Till that at last, when he advantage spyde, 
His poynant speare he thrust with puis- 
sant sway 



156 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



At proud Cymochles, whiles his shield was 

wyde, 
That through his thigh the mortall Steele 

did gryde : 
He, swarving with the force, within his 

flesh 
Did breake the launce, and let the head 

abyde. 
Out of the wound the red blood flowed 

fresh, 
That underneath his feet soone made a 

purple plesh. 

XXXVII. 

Horribly then he gan to rage and rayle, 
Cursing his Gods, and him selfe damning 

deepe : 
Als w^hen his brother saw the red blood 

rayle 
Adowne so fast, and all his armour steepe, 
For very felnesse lowd he gan to weepe, 
And said; ' Caytive, curse on thy cruell 

bond, 
That twise hath spedd ; yet shall it not 

thee keepe 
From the third brunt of this my fatall 

brond : 
Lo ! where the dreadfull Death behynd thy 

backe doth stond.' 

XXXVIII. 

With that he strooke, and thother 
strooke withall. 
That nothing seemd mote beare so mon- 
strous might : 
The one upon his covered shield did fall, 
And glaunciug downe would not his owner 

byte; 
But thother did upon his troncheon smyte, 
Which hewing quite asunder, further way 
It made, and on his hacqueton did lyte, 
The which dividing with importune sway, 
It seizd in his right side, and there the dint 
did stay. 

XXXIX. 

Wyde was the wound, and a large luke- 
warme flood, 

Rod as the Rose, thence gushed grievously ; 

That when the Paynym spyde the stream- 
ing blood. 

Gave him great hart and hope of vic- 
tory. 

On th' other side, in huge perplexity 

The Prince now stood, having his weapon 
broke ; 

Nought could he hurt, but still at warde 
did ly : 

Yet with his troncheon he so rudely stroke 

Cymochles twise, that twise him forst his 
foot revoke. 



Whom when the Palmer saw in such dis- 
tresse. 
Sir Guyon's sword he lightly to him raught, 
And said ; ' Fayre Sonne, great God thy 

right hand blesse. 
To use that sword so well as he it ought ! ' 
Glad was the knight, and with fresh cour- 
age fraught. 
When as againe he armed felt his bond : 
Then like a Lyon, which hath long time 

saught 
His robbed whelpes, and at the last them 

fond 
Emongst the shepeheard swaynes, then 
wexeth wood and yond : 



So fierce he laid about him, and dealt 

blowes 
On either side, that neither mayle could 

hold, 
Ne shield defend the thunder of his 

throwes : 
Now to Pyrochles many strokes he told ; 
Eft to Cymochles twise so many fold ; 
Tben, backe againe turning his busie bond. 
Them both atonce compeld with courage 

bold 
To yield wide way to his hart-thrilling 

brond ; 
And though they both stood stiff e, yet could 

not both withstond. 



As salvage Bull, whom two fierce mas- 

tives bayt. 
When rancour doth with rage him once 

engore, 
Forgets with wary warde them to awayt, 
But with his dreadfull homes them drives 

afore, 
Or flings aloft, or treades downe in the 

flore. 
Breathing out wrath, and bellowing dis- 

daine. 
That all the forest quakes to heare him 

rore : 
So rag'd Prince Arthur twixt his foemen 

twaine, 
That neither could his mightie puissaunce 

sustaine. 

XLIII. 

But ever at Pyi-ochles when he smitt, 
(Who Guy on s shield cast ever him before, 
Whereon the Faery Queenes pourtract was 

writt,) 
His hand relented and the stroke forbore, 
And his deare hart the picture gan adore ; 



CANTO VIII. J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



157 



Which oft the Paynim sav'd from deadly 

stowre : 
But him heuceforth the same can save uo 

more ; 
For now arrived is his fatall howre, 
That no'te avoyded be by earthly skill or 

powre. 

XLIV. 

For when Cymochles saw the fowle re- 

proch, 
Which them appeached, prickt with guiltie 

shame 
And inward griefe, he fiercely gan ap- 

proch, 
Resolv'd to put away that loathly blame, 
Or dye with honour and desert of fame ; 
And on the haubergli stroke the Prince so 

sore, 
That quite disparted all the linked frame, 
And pierced to the skin, but bit no more ; 
Yet m:vde him twise to reele, that never 

moov'd afore. 



Whereat renfierst with wrath and sharp 

regret, 
He stroke so hugely with his borrowd 

blade, 
That it empierst the Pagans burganet : 
And, cleaving the hard Steele, did deepe 

invade 
Into his head, and cruell passage made 
Quite through his brayne. He, tombling 

downe on ground, 
Breathd out his ghost, which, to th' in- 

fernall shade 
Fast flying, there eternall torment found 
For all the sinues wherewith his lewd life 

did aboimd. 



Which when his german saw, the stony 

feare 
Ran to his hart, and all his sence dismayd, 
Ne thenceforth life ne corage did appeare ; 
But as a man whom hellish feendes have 

frayd, 
Long trembling, still he stoode: at last 

thus sayd ; 
' Traytour, what hast thou doen ? How 

ever may 
Thy cursed hand so cruelly have swayd 
Against that knight ! Harrow and well 

away ! 
After so wicked deede why liv'st thou 

lenger day ? ' 



With that all desperate, as loathing 
light. 
And with revenge desyring soone to dye, 



Assembling all his force and utmost might. 
With his owne swerd he fierce at him did 

rtye. 
And strooke, and foynd, and lasht out- 
rageously, 
Withouten reason or regard. Well kneAv 
The Prince, with pacience and sufferauuce 

sly 
So hasty heat soone cooled to subdew: 
Tho, when this breathlesse woxe, that bat- 
teil gan renew. 



XLVIII. 

As when a windy tempest bloweth hye. 
That nothing may withstand his stormy 

stowre. 
The clowdes, as thinges affrayd, before 

him flye ; 
But all so soone as his outrageous powre 
Is layd, they fiercely then begin to 

showre ; 
And, as in scorne of his spent stormy 

spight. 
Now all attonce their malice forth do 

poure : 
So did Prince Arthur beare himselfe in 

fight. 
And suffred rash Pyrochles waste his ydle 

might. 

XLIX. 

At last, when as the Sarazin perceiv'd 
How that straunge sword refusd to serve 

his neede, 
But when he stroke most strong the dint 

deceiv'd, 
Heflongit fromhim ; and,devoyd of dreed. 
Upon him lightly leaping without heed 
Twixt his two mighty armes engrasped 

fast. 
Thinking to overthrowe and downe him 

tred : 
But him in strength and skill the Prince 

surpast, 
And through his nimble sleight did under 

him down cast. 



Nought booted it the Paynim then to 
strive ; 
For as a Bittur in the Eagles clawe, 
That may not hope by flight to scape alive. 
Still waytes for death with dread and trem- 
bling aw ; 
So be, now subject to the victours law, 
Did not once move, nor upward cast his 

eye, 
For vile disdaine and rancour, which did 

gnaw 
His hart in twaine with sad melancholy ; 



158 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



As one that loathed life, and yet despysd 
to dye. 

LI. 

But full of princely bounty and great 
mind, 
The conquerour nought cared him to 

slay; 
But casting wronges and all revenge be- 
hind. 
More glory thought to give life then decay, 
And sayd; ' Payuim, this is thy dismall 

day; 
Yet if thou wilt renounce thy miscreaunce, 
And my trew liegeman yield thy selfe for 

ay, 
Life will I graunt thee for thy valiaunce, 
And all thy wronges will wipe out of my 
sovenaunce.' 

LII. 

* Foole ! ' (sayd the Pagan) ' I thy gift 
defye, 
But use thy fortune as it doth befall ; 
And say, that I not overcome doe dye. 
But in despight of life for death doe call.' 
Wroth was the Prince, andsory yetwithall. 
That he so wilfully refused grace ; 
Yet sith his fate so cruelly did fall. 
His shining Helmet he gan soone unlace, 
And left his headlesse body bleeding all 
the place. 

LIII. 

By this Sir Guyon from his traunce 

awakt. 
Life having maystered her sencelesse 

foe. 
And looking up, whenas his shield he lakt 
And sword saw not, he wexed wondrous 

woe ; 
But when the Palmer, whom he long ygoe 
Had lost, he by him spyde, right glad he 

grew, 
And saide ; ' Deare sir, whom wandring to 

and fro 
I long have lackt, I joy thy face to vew: 
Firme is thy faith, whom daunger never 

fro me drew. 



'But read, what wicked hand hath 
robbed mee 
Of my good sword and shield ? ' The 

Palmer, glad 
With so fresh hew uprysing him to see. 
Him answered : ' Fay re sonne, be no whit 

sad 
For want of weapons ; they shall soone 

be had.' 
So gan he to discourse the whole debate. 
Which that straunge knight for him sus- 
tained had, 
And those two Sarazins confounded late. 
Whose carcases on ground were horribly 
prostrate. 

LV. 

Which when he heard, and saw the 

tokens trew. 
His hart with great affection was em- 

bayd, 
And to the Prince, bowing with reverence 

dew 
As to the patrone of his life, thus sayd ; 
' My Lord, my liege, by whose most gra- 

tious ayd 
I live this day, and see my foes subdewd. 
What may suffice to be for meede repayd 
Of so great graces as ye have me shewd, 
But to be ever bound ' 



To whom the Infant thus ; ' Fayre Sir, 

what need 
Good turnes be coimted as a servile bond 
To bind their dooers to receive their 

meed? 
Are not all knightes by oath bound to 

withstond 
Oppressours powre by armes and puissant 

bond? 
Suffise that I have done my dew in place.' 
So goodly purpose they together fond 
Of kindnesse and of courteous aggrace ; 
The whiles false Archimage and Atin fled 

apace. 



CANTO IX. 

The house of Temperance, in which 

Doth sober Alma dwell, 
Besiegd of many foes, whom straung- 

er knightes to flight compell. 



Of all Gods workes which doe this 
worlde adorne, 
There is no one more faire and excellent 



Then is mans body, both for powre and -^^ 

forme. 
Whiles it is kept in sober government; 
But none then it more fowle and indecent, 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



159 



Distemi^red through misrule and passions 

bace: 
It growes a Monster, and incontinent 
Doth loose his dignity and native grace : 
Behold, who list, both one and other in 

this place. 

II. 

After the Paynim brethren couquer'd 

were. 
The Briton Prince recov'ring his stohie 

sword. 
And Guy on his lost shield, they both 

yfere 
Forth passed on their way in fayre 

accord. 
Till him the Prince with gentle court did 

bord : 
* Sir knight, mote I of you this court'sy 

read. 
To weet why on your shield, so goodly 

scord, 
Beare ye the picture of that Ladies head ? 
Full lively is the semblaunt, though the 

substance dead.' 

III. 

* Fayre Sir,' (sayd he) ' if in that picture 

dead 
Such life ye read, and vertue in vaine 

shew ; 
What mote ye weene, if the trew lively- 
head 
Of that most glorious visage ye did 

vew: 
But yf the beauty of her mind ye knew, 
That is, her bounty, and imperiall 

powre, 
Thousand times fairer than her mortall 

hew, 
O ! how great wonder would your thoughts 

devoure, 
And infinite desire into your spirite poure. 



* Shee is the mighty Queene of Faery, 
Whose faire retraitt I in my shield doe 

beare ; 
Shee is the flowre of grace and chastity 
Throughout the world, renowmed far and 

neare. 
My liefe, my liege, my Soveraine, my 

deare, 
Whose glory shineth as the morning 

starre, 
And with her light the earth enlumines 

cleare : 
Far reach her mercies, and her praises 

farre, 
As well in state of peace, as puissaunce in 

warre.' 



'Thrise happy man,' (said then the 

Briton knight) 
' Whom gracious lott and thy great 

valiauuce 
Have made thee soldier of that Princesse 

bright, 
Which with her bounty and glad counte- 

naunce 
Doth blesse her servaunts, and them high 

advaunce. 
How may straunge knight hope ever to 

aspire, 
By faithfull service and meete amenaunce, 
Unto such blisse? sufficient were that 

hire 
For losse of thousand lives, to die at her 

desire.' 

VI. 

Said Guyon, ' Noble Lord, what meed 

so great, 
Or grace of earthly Prince so soveraine. 
But by your wondrous worth and warlike 

feat 
Ye well may hope, and easely attain e? 
But were your will her sold to entertaine. 
And numbred be mongst knights of May- 

denhed, 
Great guerdon, well I wote, should you 

remaine. 
And in her favor high bee reckoned, 
As Arthegall and Sophy now beene 

honored.' 

VII. 

' Certes,' (then said the Prince) ' I God 

avow. 
That sith I armes and knighthood first 

did plight, 
My whole desire hath beene, and yet is 

n~ow. 
To serve that Queene with al my powre 

and might. 
Seven times the Sunne, with his lamp- 
burning light, 
Hath walkte about the world, and I no 

lesse, 
Sith of that Goddesse I have sought the 

sight, 
Yet no where can her find : such happi- 

nesse 
Heven doth to me envy, and fortune 

favourlesse.' 

VIII. 

* Fortune, the foe of famous chevi- 

saunce, 
' Seldom ' (said Guyon) ' yields to vertue 

aide, 
But in her way throwes mischiefe and 

mischaunce, • 



i6o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



^ 



Whereby her course is stopt and passage 

staid : 
But you, faire Sir, be not herewith dis- 

maid, 
But constant keepe the way in which ye 

stand ; 
Which, were it not that I am els delaid 
Wilh hard adventure which I have in 

hand, 
I labour would to guide you through al 

Faery land.' 

IX. 

' Gramercy Sir,' said he ; ' but mote I 

weete 
What straunge adventure doe ye now 

pursew? 
Perhaps my succour or advizement meete 
Mote stead you much your purpose to 

subdew.' 
Then gan Sir Guyon all the story shew 
Of false Acrasia, and her wicked wiles ; , 
Which to avenge the Palmer him forth 

drew 
From Faery court. So talked they, the 

whiles 
They wasted had much way, and measurd 

many miles. 

X. 

And now faire Phoebus gan decline in 

haste 
His weary wagon to the Westerne vale, 
AVhenas they spide a goodly castle, plaste 
]*\)reby a river in a pleasaunt dale; 
Which choosing for that evenings lios- 

pitale, 
They thither marcht: but when they 
., came in sight, 

And from their sweaty Coursers did 

avale, 
They found the gates fast barred long 

ere night, 
And every loup fast lockt, as fearing 

foes despight. 



\.. 



XI. 



Which when they saw, they weened 

fowle reproch 
Was to them doen, their entraunce to 

forestall, 
Till that the Squire gan nigher to approch, 
And wind his borne under the castle wall, 
That with the noise it shooke as it would 

fall. 
Eftsoones forth looked from the highest 

spire 
The watch, and lowd unto the knights 

did- call, 
To weete what they so rudely did require? 
AVho gently answered, They entraunce 

did desire. 



'Fly fly, good knights,' (said he) 'fly 

fast away, 
If that your lives ye love, as meete ye 

should ; 
Fly fast, and save your selves from neare 

decay ; 
Here may ye not have entraunce, though 

we would : 
We would, and would againe, if that we 

could ; 
But thousand enemies about us rave. 
And with long siege us in the castle 

liould. 
Seven yeares this wize they us besieged 

have, 
And many good knights slaiue that have 

us sought to save.' 

XIII. 

Thus as he spoke, loe! with outragious 

cry 
A thousand villeins rownd about them 

swarmd 
Out of the rockes and caves adjoyning 

nye; 
Vile caitive wretches, ragged, rude, de- 

formd, 
All threatning death, all in straunge 

manner arnid ; 
Some with unweldy clubs, some with 

long speares, 
Some rusty knifes, some staves in tier 

warmd : 
Sterne was their looke ; like wild amaze4 

steares, 
Staring with hollow eies, and stiffe up- 
standing heares. 



Fiersly at first those knights they did 

assayle. 
And drove them to recoile ; but when 

againe 
They gave fresh charge, their forces gan 

to fayle, 
Unhable their encounter to sustaine ; 
For with such puissauuce and impetuous 

maine 
Those Champions broke on them, that 

forst them fly, 
Like scattered Sheepe, whenas the Shep- 
herds swaine 
A Lyon and a Tigre doth espye. 
With greedy pace forth rushing from the 

forest nye. 

XV. 

A while they fled, but soone retournd 
againe 
With greater fury then before was fownd ; 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



i6i 



And evermore their cruell Capitaine 
Sought witli his raskall routs t'enclose 

them rownd, 
And, overronne, to tread them to the 

grownd : 
But soone the knights with their bright 

bunnng blades 
Broke their rude troupes, and orders did 

confownd, 
Hewing and slashing at their idle shades ; 
For though they bodies seem, yet sub- 

staunce from them fades. 



As when a swarme of Gnats at eventide 

Out of the fennes of Allan doe arise, 

Their murmuring small trompetts sown- 
den wide, 

Whiles in the aire their clustring army 
flies, 

That as a cloud doth seeme to dim the 
skies ; 

Ne man nor beast may rest, or take re- 
past 

For their sharpe wounds and noyous in- 
juries, 

Till the fierce Northerne wind with blus- 
tring blast 

Doth blow them quite away, and in the 
Ocean cast. 



Thus when they had that troublous rout 

disperst, 
Unto the castle gate they come againe, 
And entraunce crav'd which was denied 

erst. 
Now when report of that their perlous 

paine, 
And combrous conflict which they did 

sustaine, 
Came to the Ladies eare which there did 

dwell, 
Shee forth issewed with a goodly traine 
Of Squires and Ladies equipaged well, 
And entertained them right fairely, as 

befell. 

XVIII. 

Alma she called was ; a virgin bright, 
That had not yet felt Cupides wanton 

rage; 
Yet was shee woo'd of many a gentle 

knight. 
And many a Lord of noble parentage, 
That sought with her to lincke in mar- 
riage : 
For shee was faire as faire mote ever bee, 
And in the flowre now of her freshest age ; 
Yet full of grace and goodly modestee, 
That even heven rejoyced lier sweete face 
to see. 



In robe of lilly white she was arayd, 
That from her shoulder to her heele downe 

raught ; 
The traine whereof loose far behind her 

strayd, 
Braunched with gold and perle most 

richly wrought, 
And borne of two faire Damsels which 

were taught 
That service well. Her yellow golden 

heare 
Was trimly woven and in tresses wrought, 
Ne other tire she on her head did weare, 
But crowned with a garland of sweete 

Rosiere. 

XX. 

Goodly shee entertaind those noble 

knights, 
And brought them up into her castle 

hall ; 
Where gentle court and gracious delight 
Shee to them made, with mildnesse vir- 

ginall, 
Shewing her selfe both wise and liberall. 
Then, when they rested had a season dew, 
They her besought of favour speciall 
Of that faire Castle to affoord them vew : 
Shee grauuted ; and, them leading forth, 

the same did shew. 



First she them led up to the Castle 
wall, 

That was so high as foe might not it 
clime, 

And all so faire and fensible withall ; 

Not built of bricke, ne yet of stone and 
lime, 

But of thing like to that Egyptian slime. 

Whereof king Nine whilome built Babell 
towre. 

But O great pitty ! that no lenger time 

So goodly workemanship should not en- 
dure : 

Soone it must turne to earth ; no earthly 
thing is sure. 

XXII. 

The frame thereof seemd partly circu- 

lare, 
And part triangulare ; O worke divine ! 
Those two the first and last proportions 

are; 
The one imperfect, mortall, foeminine, 
Th' other immortall, perfect, masculine; 
And twixt them both a quadrate was the 

base, 
Proportiond equally by seven and nine ; 
Nine was the circle sett in heavens place • 



l62 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



All which compacted made a goodly 
Diapase. 

XXIII. 

Therein two gates were placed seemly- 
well: 
The one before, by which all in did pas, 
Did th' other far in workmanship excell ; 
For not of wood, nor of enduring bras. 
But of more worthy substance fram'd it 

was: 
Doubly disparted, it did locke and close, 
That when it locked none might thorough 

pas. 
And when it opened, no man might it 

close ; 
Still open to their friendes, and closed to 
their foes. 

XXIV. 

Of hewen stone the porch was fayrely 
wrought. 
Stone more of valew, and more smooth 

and fine, 
Then Jett or Marble far from Ireland 

brought ; 
Over the which was cast a wandring vine, 
Enchaced with a wanton yvie twine ; 
And over it a fayre Portcullis hong, 
Which to the gate directly did incline 
With comely compasse and compacture 

strong, 
Nether unseemly short, nor yet exceed- 
ing long. 



Within the Barbican a Porter sate, 
Day and night duely keeping watch and 

ward ; 
Nor wight nor word mote passe out of the 

gate. 
But in good order, and with dew regard ; 
Utterers of secrets he from thence debard, 
Bablers of folly, and blazers of cryme: 
His larumbell might lowd and wyde be 

hard 
When cause requyrd, but never out of 

time ; 
Early and late it rong, at evening and at 

prime. 

xxvi. 
And rownd about the porch on every 

syde 
Twise sixteene warders satt, all armed 

bright 
In glistring Steele, and strongly fortifyde : 
Tall yeomen seemed they and of great 

might. 
And were enraunged ready still for fight. 
By them as Alma passed with her guestes, 
They did obeysaunce, as beseemed right, 
And then againe retourned to their restes : 



The Porter eke to her did lout with hum- 
ble gestes. 

XXVII. 

Thence she them brought into a stately 

Hall, 
Wherein were many tables fayre dispred, 
And ready dight with drapets festivall. 
Against the viaundes should be ministred. 
At th' upper end there sate, yclad in red 
Downe to the ground, a comely personage, 
That in his hand a white rod menaged : 
He Steward was, hight Diet; rype of 

age. 
And in demeanure sober, and in counsell 

sage. 

XXVIII. 

And through the Hall there walked to 

and fro 
A jolly yeoman, Marshall of the same, 
Whose name was Appetite : he did bestow 
Both guestes and meate, when ever in they 

came, 
And knew them how to order without 

blame. 
As him the "Steward badd. They both 

attone 
Did dewty to their Lady, as became ; 
Who, passing by, forth ledd her guestes 

auone 
Into the kitchin rowme, ne spard for nice- 

nesse none. 

XXIX. 

It was a vaut ybuilt for great dispence. 
With many raunges reard along the wall, 
And one great chimney, whose long ton- 

nell thence 
The smoke forth threw. And in the midst 

of all 
There placed was a caudron wide and tall 
Upon a mightie fornace, burning whott. 
More whott then Aetn', or flaming Mon- 

giball 
For day and night it brent, ne ceased not, 
So long as any thing it in the caudron 

gott. 

XXX. 

But to delay the heat, least by mis- 

chaunce 
It might breake out and set the whole on 

fyre, 
There added was by goodly ordinaunce 
An huge great payre of bellowes, which 

did sty re 
Continually', and cooling breath inspyre. 
About the Caudron many Cookes accoyld 
With hookes and ladles, as need did re- 

quyre ; 
The whyles the viaundes in the vessell 

boyld 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



163 



They did about their busiuesse sweat, and 
sorely toyld. 

XXXI. 

The maister Cooke was eald Coucoction ; 
A carefuU man, and full of comely guyse. 
The kitchin clerke, that hight Digestion, 
Did order all th' Achates in seemely wise, 
And set them forth, as well he could de- 
vise. 
The rest had severall offices assynd ; 
Some to remove the scum as it did rise ; 
Others to beare the same away did mynd ; 
And others it to use according to hiskyud. 

XXXII. 

But all the liquour, which was fowle 

and waste. 
Not good nor serviceable elles for ought. 
They in another great ro wnd vessell plaste , 
Till by a conduit pipe it thence were 

brought : 
And all the rest, that noyous was and 

nought, 
By secret wayes, that none might it espy, 
Was close convaid, and to the backgate 

brought, 
That cleped was Port Esquiline, whereby 
It was avoided quite, and throwne out 

privily. 



Which goodly order and great work- 
mans skill 
Whenas those knightes beheld, with rare 

delight 
And gazing wonder they their mindes did 

fill; 
For never had they scene so strauuge a 

sight. 
Thence backe againe faire Alma led them 

right. 
And soone into a goodly Parlour brought. 
That was with royall arras richly dight. 
In which was nothing pourtrahed nor 

wrought ; 
Not wrought nor pourtrahed, but easie to 

be thought. 

xxxiv. 

And in the midst thereof upon the floure 
A lovely bevy of faii-e Ladies sate. 
Courted of many a jolly Paramoure, 
The which them did in modest wise amate. 
And each one sought his Lady to aggrate : 
And eke emongst them litle Cupid playd 
His wanton sportes, being retourned late 
From his fierce warres, and having from 

him layd 
His cruell bow, wherewith he thousands 

hath dismayd. 



Diverse delights they fownd them selves 

to please ; 
Some song in sweet consort ; some laught 

for joy ; 
Some plaid with strawes ; some ydly satt 

at ease ; 
But other some could not abide to toy ; 
All pleasaunce was to them griefe and 

annoy: 
This f round, that faund, the third for 

shame did blush. 
Another seemed envious or coy. 
Another in her teeth did gnaw a rush ; 
But at these straungers presence every one 

did hush. 

xxxvi. 

Soone as the gracious Alma came in 

place. 
They all attonce out of their seates arose. 
And to her homage made with humble 

grace : 
Whom when the knights beheld, they gan 

dispose 
Themselves to court, and each a damzell 

chose. 
The Prince by chaunce did on a Lady light, 
That was right faire and fresh as morning 

rose, 
But somwhat sad and solemne eke in 

sight, 
As if some pensive thought constraind her 

gentle spright. 



In a long purple pall, whose skirt with 

•gold 
Was fretted all aboiit, she was arayd ; 
And in her hand a Poplar braunch did 

hold : 
To whom the Prince in courteous maner 

sayd; 
* Gentle Madame, why beene ye thus dis- 
mayd, 
And your faire beautie doe with sadnes 

spill ? 
Lives any that you hath thus ill apayd ? 
Or doen you love? or doen you lack your 

will ? 
What ever bee the cause, it sure bcseemes 

you ill.' 

XXXVIII. 

' Fayre Sir,' said she, halfe in disdaine- 

ful wise, 
' How is it that this mood in me ye blame, 
And in your selfe doe not the same advise ? 
Him ill beseemes anothers fault to name, 
That may unwares bee blotted with the 

same : 



164 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Pensive I yeeld I am, and sad in mind, 
Through great desire of glory and of fame ; 
Ne ought, I weene, are ye therein behynd, 
That have three years sought one, yet no 
where can her find.' 

XXXIX. 

The Prince was inly moved at her speach. 
Well weeting trew what she had rashly 

told; 
Yet with faire semhlauut sought to hyde 

the breach. 
Which chauuge of colour did perforce vm- 

fold, 
Now seeming flaming whott, now stony 

cold : 
Tho, turning soft aside, he did inquyre 
What wight she was that Poplar braunch 

did hold ? 
It answered was, her name was Prays- 

desire, 
That by well doing sought to honour to 

aspyre. 

XL. 

The whyles the Faery knight did enter- 

tayne 
Another Damsell of that gentle crew, 
That was right fayre and modest of de- 

mayne. 
But that too oft she chaung'd her native 

hew. 
Straunge was her tyre, and all her garment 

blew. 
Close rownd about her tuckt with many a 

plight : 
Upon her fist the bird, which slionneth 

vew. 
And keepes in coverts close from living 

wight, 
Did sitt, as yet ashamd how rude Pan did 

her dight. 

XLI. 

So long as Guyon with her coramoned. 
Unto the grownd she cast her modest eye. 
And ever and anone with rosy red 
The bashfull blood her snowy cheekes did 

dye, 
That her became, as polisht yvory 
Which cunning Craftesman hand hath 

overlayd 
With fayre vermilion or pure Castory. 
Great wonder had the knight to see the 

mayd 
So straungely passioned, and to her gently 

said: 

XLII. 

' Fayre Damzell, seemeth by your 
troubled cheare. 
That either me too bold ye weene, this wise 
You to molest, or other ill to feare 



That in the secret of your hart close lyes, 
From whence it doth, as cloud from sea, 

aryse. 
If it be I, of pardon I you pray ; 
But if ought else that 1 mote not devyse, 
I will, if please you it discure, assay 
To ease you of that ill, so wisely as I 

may.' 

XLIII. 

She answerd nought, but more abasht 
for shame 

Held downe her head, the whiles her lovely 
face 

The flashing blood with blushing did in- 
flame, 

And the strong passion mard her modest 
grace, 

That Guji^on mervayld at her uncouth 
cace; 

Till Alma him bespake : ' Why wonder yee, 

Faire Sir, at that which ye so nxuch em- 
brace ? 

She is the fountaine of your modestee : 

You sharaefast are, but Shamelastnes it 
selfe is shee.' 

XLIV. 

Thereat the Fife did blush in privitee, 
And turnd his face away, but she the same 
Dissembled faire, and faynd to oversee. 
Thus they awhile with court and goodly 

game 
Themselves did solace each one with his 

Dame, 
Till that great Lady thence away them 

sought 
To vew her Castles other wondrous frame : 
Up to a stately Turret she them brought, 
Ascending by ten steps of Alabaster 

wrought. 

XLV. 

That Turrets frame most admirable was, 
Like highest heaven compassed around. 
And lifted high above this earthly masse, 
Which it survewd as hils doen lower 

ground ; 
But not on ground mote like to this be 

found : 
Not that, which antique Cadmus whvlome ■ 

built 
In Thebes, which Alexander did confound ; ; 
Nor that proud towre of Troy, though 1 

richly guilt. 
From which young Hectors blood by cruell > 

Greekes was spilt. 

XLVI. 

The roofe hereof was arched over head, 
And deckt with flowers and herbars 
daintily: 



IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



165 



Two goodly Beacons, set in watches stead, 
Therein gave light, and flamd continu- 
ally; 
For they of living fire most subtilly 
"Were made, and set in silver sockets 

bright, 
Cover'd with lids deviz'd of substance sly, 
That readily they shut and open might. 
O ! who can tell the prayses of that makers 
might ? 

XLVII. 

Ne can I tell, ne can I stay to tell. 

This parts great workemanship and won- 
drous powre, 

That all this other worldes worke doth ex- 
cell. 

And likest is unto that heavenly towve 

That God hath built for his owne blessed 
bow re. 

Therein w^ere divers row^mes, and divers 
stages ; 

But three the chiefest and of gi-eatest 
powre, 

In which there dwelt three honorable 
sages, 

The wisest men, I weene, that lived in 
their ages. 

XLVIII. 

Not he, whom Greece, the Nourse of all 
good arts. 
By Phoebus doome the wisest thought 

alive, 
Might be compar'd to these by many parts : 
Nor that sage Pyliau syre, which did sur- 
vive 
Three ages, such as mortall men contrive. 
By whose advise old Priams cittie fell, 
With these in j)raise of pollicies mote 

strive. 
These three in these three rowmes did 

sondry dwell, 
And counselled faire Alma how to governe 
well. 

XLIX. 

The first of them could things to come 

foresee ; 
The next could of thinges present best 

advize ; 
The third things past could keep in mem- 

oree : 
So that no time nor reason could arize. 
But that the same could one of these com- 
prize. 
For-thy the fii'st did in the forepart sit, 
That nought mote hinder his quicke pre- 

judize: 
He had a sharpe foresight ami working 

M^it 
That never idle was, ne once would rest a 

whit. 



His chamber was dispainted all within 

With sondry colours, in the which were 
writ 

Infinite shapes of thinges dispersed thin ; 

Some such as in the world were never yit, 

Ne can devized be of mortall wit ; 

Some daily scene and knowen by their 
names. 

Such as in idle fantasies do flit ; 

Infernall Hags, Centaurs, feendes. Hippo- 
dames, 

Apes, Lyons, Aegles, Owles, fooles, lovers, 
children, Dames. 



And all the chamber filled was with flyes 

Which buzzed all about, a;id made such 
sound 

That they encombred all mens cares and 
eyes ; 

Like many swarmes of Bees assembled 
round, 

After their hives with honny do abound. 

All those were idle thoughtes and fanta- 
sies, 

Devices, dreames, opinions unsound, 

Shewes, visions, sooth-sayes, and prophe- 
sies ; 

And all that fained is, as leasings, tales, 
and lies. 

LII. 

Eniongst them all sate he which wonned 
there. 

That bight Phan tastes by his nature trew ; 

A man of yeares yet fresh, as mote appere. 

Of swarth complexion, and of crabbed 
hew, 

That him full of melancholy did shew ; 

Bent hollow beetle browes, sharpe staring- 
eyes. 

That mad or foolish seemd: one by his 
vew 

Mote deeme him borne with ill-disposed 
skyes, 

AVhen oblique Saturue sate in th' house of 
agonyes. 

LIII. 

Whom Alma having shewed to her 

guestes, 
Thence brought them to the second rownie, 

whose wals 
Were painted faire with memorable gestes 
Of famous Wisards ; and with picturals 
Of Magistrates, of courts, of tribunals, 
Of commen-wealthes, of states, of pollicy. 
Of lawes,of judgementes, and of decretals, 
All artes, all science, all Philosophy, 
And all that in the world was ay thought 

wittily. 



166 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



l&m^^ ic. 



Of those that rowme was full ; and them 
among 
There sate a naan of ripe and perfect age, 
Who did them meditate all his life long, 
Tliat through continual! practise and usage 
He now was growne right wise and won- 
drous sage : 
(Jreat pleasure had those strauuger 

knightes to see 
His goodly reason and grave personage, 
Tiiat his disciples both desyrd to bee ; 
But Alma thence them led to th' hind- 
most rowme of three. 



That chamber seemed ruinous and old, 
And therefore was removed far behind, 
Yet were the wals, that did the same 

uphold, 
Right tirme and strong, though somwhat 

they declind ; 
And therein sat an old old man, halfe 

blind, 
And all decrepit in his feeble corse, 
Yet lively vigour rested in his mind, 
And recompenst them with a better scorse : 
Weake body wel is chang'd for minds 

redoubled forse. 



This man of infinite reraembraunce was, 
And things foregone through many ages 

held, 
Which he recorded still as they did pas, 
Ne suffred them to perish through long 

eld. 
As all things els the which this world doth 

weld ; 
But laid them up in his immortall serine, 
Where they for ever incorrupted dweld : 
The warres he well remembred of king 

Nine, 
Of old Assaracus, and Inachus divine. 



The yeares of Nestor nothing were to 

his, 
Ne yet Mathusalem, though longest liv'd ; 
For he remembred both their infancis: 
Ne wonder then, if that he were depriv'd 
Of native strength now that he them 

surviv'd. 



His chamber all was hangd about with 
rolls 

And old records from auncient times 
derivd, 

Some made in books, some in long parch- 
ment scrolls, 

That were all worm-eaten and full of 
canker holes. 

LVIII. 

Amidst them all he in a chaire was sett, 
Tossing and turning them withouten end ; 
But for he was unliable them to fett, 
A litle boy did on him still attend 
To reach, when ever he for ought did 

send ; 
And oft when thinges were lost, or laid: 

amis. 
That boy them sought and unto him did'. 

lend : 
Therefore he Anamnestes cleped is; 
And that old man Eumnestes, by their* 

propertis. 

LIX. 

The knightes there entring did him 

reverence dew, 
And wondred at his endlesse exercise: 
Then as they gan his Library to vew, 
And antique Regesters for to avise. 
There chaunced to the Princes hand to 

rize 
An auncient booke, hight Britoii moni- 

ments, 
That of this lands first conquest did 

devize, 
And old division into Regiments, 
Till it reduced was to one mans governe- 

ments. 



Sir Guyon chaunst eke on another- 

booke. 
That hight Antiqiiltee of Faery land : 
In which whenas he greedily did looke, 
Th' ofspring of Elves and Faeryes there 

he fond, 
As it delivered was from bond to bond : 
Whereat they, burning both with fecvent 

fire 
Their countreys auncestry to understond",, 
Crav'd leave of Alma and that aged sire 
To read those bookes ; who gladly graunted 

their desire. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



167 



CANTO X. 

A chronicle of Briton kings, 
From Brute to Uthers rayne ; 

And rolls of Elfln Eiiiperours, 
Till time of Gloriane. 



Who now shall give unto me words and 

sound 
Equall unto this haughty enterprise? 
Or who shall lend me wings, with which 

from ground 
My lowly verse may loftily arise, 
And lift it selfe unto the highest skyes? 
jNlore ample spirit than hitherto was wount 
Here ueedes me, whiles the famous 

auucestryes 
Of ray most dreaded Soveraigne I recount. 
By which all earthly Princes she doth far 

surmount. 

II. 

Ne under Sunne that shines so wide and 
faire, 

Whence all that lives does borrow life 
and light, 

Lives ought that to her linage may 
compaire ; 

AVhich though from earth itbederived right, 

Yet doth it selfe stretch forth to hevens 
hight, 

And all the world with wonder overspred ; 

A labor huge, exceeding far my might. 

How shall fraile pen, with feare dis- 
paraged. 

Conceive such soveraine glory and great 
bountyhed ? 

III. 

Argument worthy of M?eonian quill ; 
Or rather worthy of great Phoebus rote. 
Whereon the mines of great Ossa hill. 
And triumphes of Phlegra^an Jove, he 

wrote. 
That all the Gods adniird his lofty note. 
But if some relish of that hevenly lay 
His learned daughters would to me report 
To decke my song withall, I would assay 
Thy name, O soveraine Queene ! to blazon 

far away. 

IV. 

Thy name, O soveraine Queene! thy 

realme, and race, 
From this renowmed Prince derived arre. 
Who mightily upheld that royall mace 
Which now thou bear'st, to thee descended 

farre 
From mighty kings and conquerours in 

warre, 



Thy fathers and great Grandfathers of 

old, 
AVhose noble deeds above the Northern 

starre 
Immortall fame for ever hath enrold ; 
As in that old mans booke they were iu 

order told. 

V. 

The land which warlike Britons now 

possesse, 
And therein have their mighty empire 

raysd, 
In antique times was salvage wildernesse, 
Unpeopled, unmannurd, unprovd, un- 

praysd ; 
Ne was it Island then, ne was it paysd 
Amid the ocean waves, ne was it sought 
Of merchants farre for profits therein 

praysd ; 
But was all desolate, and of some thought 
By sea to have bene from the Celticke 

maynland brought. 

VI. 

Ne did it then deserve a name to have, 
Till that the venturous Mariner that way 
Learning his ship from those white rocks 

to save, 
Which all along the Southerne sea-coast 

lay 
Threatning unheedy wrecke and rash 

decay, 
For safety that same his sea-marke made, 
And namd it Albion : But later day, 
'Finding in it fit ports for fishers trade, 
Gan more the same frequent, and further 

to invade. 

VII. 

But far in land a salvage nation dwelt 
Of hideous Giaunts, and halfe beastly 

men, 
That never tasted grace, nor goodnes 

felt; 
But wild like beastes lurking in loathsome 

den, 
And flying fast as Roebucke through the 

fen. 
All naked without shame or care of cold. 
By hunting and by spoiling liveden ; 
Of stature huge, and eke of corage bold, 
That sonnes of men amazd their steru- 

nesse to behold. 



i68 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



. VIII. 

But whence they sprong, or how they 

were begott, 
Uneath is to assure ; uneath to wene 
That monstrous error, which doth some 

assott, 
That Diocle.sians fifty daughters shene 
Into this laud by chaunce have driven 

bene ; 
Where, compauing with feends and filthy 

Sprights 
Through vaine illusion of their lust 

unclene. 
They brought forth Geaunts, and such 

dreadful wights 
As far exceeded men in their immeasurd 

mights. 

IX. 

They held this land, and with their 

filthinesse 
Polluted this same gentle soyle long time ; 
That their owne mother loathd their beast- 

linesse, 
And gan abhorre her broods unkindly 

crime. 
All were they borne of her owne native 

slime : 
Until that Brutus, anciently deriv'd 
From roiall stocke of old Assaracs line, 
Driven by fatall error here arriv'd, 
And them of their unjust possession 

depriv'd. 



But ere he had established his throne, 
And spred his empire to the utmost shore, 
He fought great batteils with his salvage 

fone; 
In which he them defeated evermore, 
And many Giaunts left on groning flore : 
That well can Avitnes yet unto this day 
The westerne Hogh, besprincled with the 

gore 
Of mighty Gocmot, whome in stout fray 
Corineus conquered, and cruelly did slay. 



And eke that ample Pitt, yet far 

renownd 
For the large leape which Debon did 

compell 
Coulin to make, being eight lugs of 

grownd, 
Into the which retourning backe he fell : 
But those three monstrous stones doe 

• most excell, 
Which that huge sonne of hideous Albion, 
Whose father Hercules in Fraunce did 

quell, 
Great Godmer threw, in fierce contention, 



At bold Canutus ; but of him was slaine 
anon. 

XII. 

In meed of these great conquests by 

them gott, 
Corineus had that Province utmost west 
To him assigned for his worthy lott. 
Which of his name and memorable gest 
He called Cornwaile, yet so called best ; 
And Debons shayre was that is Devon- 

sliyre : 
But Canute had his portion from the rest. 
The which he cald Canutium, for his hyre ; 
Now Cautium, which Kent we comeuly 

inquyre. 

XIII. 

Thus Brute this Realme unto his rule 

subdewd. 
And raigned long in great felicity, 
Lov'd of his freends, and of his foes 

eschewd : 
He left three sonnes, his famous progeny, 
Borne of fayre Inogene of Italy ; 
Mongst whom he parted his imperiall 

state, 
And Locrine left chiefe Lord of Britany. 
At last ripe age bad him surrender late 
His life, and long good fortune, unto 

finall fate. 

XIV. 

Locrine was left the soveraine Lord of 

all: 
But Albanact had all the Northerne part, 
Which of himselfe Albania he did call ; 
And Camber did possesse the Westerne 

quart, 
Which Severne now from Logris doth 

depart : 
And each his portion peaceably enjoyd, 
Ne was there outward breach, nor grudge 

in hart, 
That once their quiet government annoyd ; 
But each his paynes to others profit still 

employd. 

XV. 

Untill a nation straunge, with visage 
swart, 
And corage fierce that all men did affray. 
Which through the world then swarmd in 

every part, 
And overflowd all countries far away, 
Like Noyes great flood, with their impor- 
tune sway, 
This land invaded with like violence, 
And did themselves through all the North 

display : 
Untill that Locrine for his Realmes de- 
fence. 
Did head against them make and strong 
munificence, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



169 



XVI. 

He them encountred, a confused rout, 
Foreby the River that whylome was 

hight 
The ancient Abus, where with courage 

stout 
He them defeated in victorious fight, 
And chaste so fiercely after fearefull 

flight, 
That forst their chiefetain, for his safeties 

sake, 
(Their Cliiefetain Humber named was 

aright,) 
Unto the mighty streame him to betake, 
Where he an end of batteill and of life 

did make. 

XVII. 

The king retourned proud of victory, 
And insolent wox through unwonted ease. 
That shortly he forgot the jeopardy. 
Which in his land he lately did appease. 
And fell to value voluptuous disease : 
He lov'd faire Ladie Estrild, leudly lov'd, 
Whose wanton pleasures him too much 

did please. 
That quite his hart from Guendolene 

remov'd, 
From Guendolene his wife, though alwaies 

faithful prov'd. 



The noble daughter of Corineus 
Would not endure to bee so vile disdaind, 
But, gathering force and corage valorous, 
Encountred him in batteill well ordaind. 
In which him vanquisht she to fly con- 

straind : 
But she so fast pursewd, that him she 

tooke 
And threw in bands, where he till death 

remaind ; 
Als his faire Leman flying thi-ough a 

brooke 
She overhent, nought moved with her 

piteous looke ; 

XIX. 

But both her selfe, and eke her daughter 

deare, 
Begotten by her kingly Paramoure, 
The faire Sabrina, almost dead with feare 
She there attached, far from all succoure 
The one she slew upon the present floure 
But the sad virgin, innocent of all, 
Adowne the rolling river she did poure, 
Which of her name now Severne men do 

call : 
Such was the end that to disloyall love 

did fall. 



XX. 

Then for her sonne, which she to Locrin 

bore, 
Madan was young, unmeet the rule to 

sway, 
In her owne hand the crowne she kept in 

store. 
Till ryper years he raught and stronger 

stay ; 
During which time her powre she did 

display 
Through allthis Realms, the glory of her 

sex. 
And first taught men a woman to obay : 
But, when her sonne to mans estate did 

wex. 
She it surrendred, ne her selfe would 

lenger vex. 

XXI. 

Tho Madan raignd, unworthie of his 

race. 
For with all shame that sacred throne he 

fild. 
Next Memprise, as unworthy of that 

place ; 
In which being consorted with Manild, 
For thirst of shigie kingdom him he kild. 
But Ebranck salved both their infamies 
With noble deedes, and warreyd on Brun- 

child 
In Henault, where yet of his victories 
Brave moniments remaine, which yet that 

land envies. 

XXII. 

An happy man in his first dayes he was, 
And happy father of faire progeny : 
For all so many weekes as the yeare has, 
So many children he did multiply: 
Of which were twentie sounes, which did 

apply 
Their mindes to prayse and chevalrous 

desyre : 
Those germans did subdew all Germany, 
Of whom it hight : but in the end their 

Syre 
With ioule repulse from Fraunce was 

forced to retyre. 

XXIII. 

Which blott his sonne succeeding in his 

seat. 
The second Brute, the second both in 

name 
And eke in semblaunce of his puissaunce 

great. 
Right well recur'd, and did away that 

blame 
With recompence of everlasting fame : 
He with his victour sword first opened 



lyo 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



The bowels of wide Fraunce, a forlorne 
Dame, 

And taught her first how to be con- 
quered ; 

Since which, with sondrie spoiles she 
hath been ransacked. 

XXIV. 

Let Scaldis tell, and let tell Hauia, 
And let the mai-sh of Esthambruges tell. 
What colour were their waters that same 

day. 
And all the moore twixt Elversham and 

Dell, 
With blood of Henalois which therein 

fell. 
How oft that day did sad Brunchildis see 
The greene shield dyde in dolorous ver- 
meil? 
That not Scuith guiridh it mote seeme to 

bee. 
But rather y scuith gogh, signe of sad 
crueltee. 

XXV. 

His Sonne, king Leill, by fathers labour 

long, 
Enjoyd an heritage of lasting peace. 
And built Cairleill, and built Cairleon 

strong. 
Next Huddibras his realme did not 

encrease. 
But taught the land from wearie w^ars to 

cease : 
Whose footsteps Bladud following, in 

artes 
Exceld at Athens all the learned preace. 
From whence he brought them to these 

salvage parts, 
And with sweet science mollifide th.eir 

stubborne harts. 

XXVI. 

Ensample of his wondrous faculty, 
Behold the boyling bathes at Cairbadon, 
Which seeth with secret fire eternally, 
And in their entrailles, full of quick Brim- 

ston, 
Nourish the flames which they are warmd 

upon. 
That to their people wealth tliey forth do 

well, 
And health to every forreyne nation : 
Yet he at last, contending to excell 
The reach of men, through flight into 

fond mischief fell. 



Next him king Leyr in happie peace 
long raynd. 



But had no issue male him to succeed, 
But three faire daughters, which were 

well uptraind 
In all that seemed fitt for kingly seed : 
Mongst whom his realme he equally de- 
creed 
To have divided. Tho, when feeble age | 
Nigh to his utmost date he saw proceed, 
He cald his daughters, and with speeches 

sage 
Inquyrd, which of them most did love 
her parentage? 



The eldest, Gonorill, gan to protest 
That she much more than her owne life 

him lov'd ; 
And Regan greater love to him profest 
Then all the world, when ever it were 

proov'd ; 
But Cordeill said she lov'd him as be- 

hoov'd : 
Whose simple answere, wanting colours 

fayre 
To paint it forth, him to displeasaunce 

moov'd, 
That in his crown he counted her no 

hayre, 
But twixt the other twain his kingdom 

whole did shayre. 



So wedded th' one to Maglan king of 

Scottes, 
And thother to the king of Cambria, 
And twixt them shayrd his realme by 

equall lottes; 
But without dowre the wise Cordelia 
Was sent to Aggannip of Celtica. 
Their aged Syre, thus eased of his crowne, 
A private life ledd in Albania 
With Gonorill, long had in great renowne. 
That nought him griev'd to beene from 

rule deposed downe. 



But true it is that, when the oyle is 
spent. 

The light goes out, and weeke is throwne 
away : 

So, when he had resignd his regiment. 

His daughter gan despise his drouping 
day. 

And wearie wax of his continuall stay. 

Tho to his daughter Regan he repay rd, 

Who him at first well used every way; 

But when of his departure she de- 
spay rd, 

Her bountie she abated, and his cheare 
empayrd. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



171 



The wretched man gan then avise too 

late, 
That love is not where most it is profest ; 
Too truely tryde in his extremest state. 
At last, resolv'd likewise to prove the 

rest, 
He to Cordelia him selfe addrest, 
Who with eutyre affection him receav'd, 
As for her Syre and king her seemed 

best; 
And after all an army strong she leav'd, 
To war on those which him had of his 

realme bereav'd. 



So to his crowne she him restord againe ; 
In which he dyde, made ripe for death by 

eld, 
And after wild it should to her remaine, 
Who peaceably the same long time did 

weld, 
And all mens harts in dew obedience held ; 
Till that her sisters children, woxen 

strong, 
Through proud ambition against her 

rebeld, 
And overcommen kept in prison long. 
Till weary of that wretched life her selfe 

she hong. 

XXXIII. 

Then gan the bloody brethren both to 

raine ; 
But fierce Cundah gan shortly to envy 
His brother Morgan, prickt with proud 

disdaine 
To have a pere in part of soverainty ; 
And kindling coles of cruell enmity, 
Raisd warre, and him in batteill overthrew. 
Whence as he to those woody hilles did 

fly, 

Which hight of him Glamorgan, there 

him slew: 
Then did he raigne alone, when he none 

equall knew. 

XXXIV. 

His Sonne Rivall' his dead rowme did 

supply ; 
In whose sad time blood did from heaven 

rayne. 
Next great Gurgustus, then faire Caecily, 
In constant peace their kingdoms did 

contayne. 
After whom Lago, and Kinmarke did 

rayne. 
And Gorbogud, till far in years he grew : 
Then his ambitious sonnes unto them 

twayne 



Arraught the rul6,-and from their father 

drew ; 
Stout Ferrex and sterne Porrex him in 

prison threw. 

XXXV. 

But O! the greedy thirst of rovall 

crowne. 
That knowes no kinred, nor regardes no 

right, 
Stird Porrex up to put his brother downe ; 
Who, unto him assembling forreigne 

might. 
Made warre on him, and fell him selfe in 

fight: 
Whose death t'avenge, his mother merci- 

lesse, 
Most mercilesse of women, Wyden hight. 
Her other sonne fast sleeping did oppresse, 
And with most cruell hand him murdred 

pittilesse. 

XXXVI. 

Here ended Brutus sacred progeny. 
Which had seven hundred yeares this 

scepter borne 
With high renowme and great felicity : 
The noble braunch from th' antique 

stocke was torne 
Through discord, and the roiall throne 

forlorne. 
Thenceforth this Realme was into fac- 
tions rent, 
Whilest each of Brutus boasted to be 

borne, 
That in the end was left no moniment 
Of Brutus, nor of Britons glorie auncient. 



Then up arose a man of matchlesse 

might, 
And wondrous wit to menage high af- 

f ay res. 
Who, stird with pitty of the stressed 

plight 
Of this sad realme, cut into sondry 

shay res 
By such as claymd themselves Brutes 

rightfull hay res, 
Gathered the Princes of the people loose 
To taken counsell of their common cares ; 
Who, with his wisedom won, him streight 

did choose 
Their king, and swore him fealty to win 

or loose. 

XXXVIII. 

Then made he head against his eni- 

mies, 
And Ymner slew of Logris miscreate ; 
Then Ruddoc and proud Stater, both 

allyes. 



172 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



This of Albany newly nominate, 

And that of Cambry king confirmed late, 

He overthrew through his owne vali- 

aunce ; 
Whose countries he redus'd to quiet 

state, 
And shortly brought to civile gover- 

naunce, 
Now one, which earst were many made 

through variaunce. 



Then made he sacred lawes, which some 

men say 
Were unto hira reveald in vision ; 
By which he freed the Travellers highway, 
The Churches part, and Ploughniaiis 

portion. 
Restraining stealth and strong extortion. 
The gratious Nunia of greai Britany ; 
For till his dayes, the chiefe dominion 
By strength was wielded without pollicy : 
Therefore he first wore crowue of gold 

for dignity. 

XL. 

Donwallo dyde, (for what may live for 
ay?) 
And left two sonnes, of pearelesse 

prowesse both, 
That sacked Rome too dearely did assay, 
The recompence of their perjured oth ; 
And ransackt Greece wel tryde, when 

they were wroth ; 
Besides subjected Fi-ance and Germany, 
Which yet their praises speake, all be 

they loth, 
And inly tremble at the memory 
Of Brennus and Belinus, kinges of Brit- 
any. 

XLI. 

Next them did Gurgiunt, great Belinus 

Sonne, 
In rule succeede, and eke in fathers 

praise ; 
He Easterland subdewd, and Denmarke 

wonne. 
And of them both did foy and tribute 

raise, 
The which was dew in his dead fathers 

dales. 
He also gave to fugitives of Spayne, 
Whom he at sea found wand ring from 

their waies, 
A seate in Ireland safely to remayne. 
Which they should hold of him, as sub- 
ject to Britayne. 

XLII. 

After him raigned Guitheliue his 
hayre, 



The justest man and trewest in his dales, 
Who had to wife Dame Mertia the fayre, 
A woman worthy of immortall praise, 
Which for this Realme found many 

goodly layes, 
And wholesome Statutes to her husband 

brought. 
Her many deemd to have beene of the 

Fayes, 
As was Aegerie that Numa tought : 
Those yet of her be Mertian lawes both 

nam'd and thought. 



Her Sonne Sisillus after her did rayne ; 
And then Kimarus; and then Danius: 
Next whom Morindus did the crowne 

sustayne ; 
Who, had he not with wrath outrageous 
And cruell rancour dim'd his valorous 
And mightie deedes, should matched have 

the best : 
As well in that same field victorious 
Against the forreine Morands he exprest ; 
Yet lives his memorie, though carcas 

sleepe in rest. 



Five sonnes he left, begotten of one 

wife, 
All which successively by turnesdid rayne : 
First Gorboman, a man of vertuous life; 
Next Archigald, who for his proud dis- 

dayne 
Deposed was from princedome soverayne, 
And pitteous Elidure put in his sted ; 
Who shortly it to him restord agayne. 
Till by his death he it recovered : 
But Peridure and Vigent him disthron- 

ized. 

XLV. 

In wretched prison long he did re- 

maine, 
Till they outraigned had their utmost 

date. 
And then therein reseized was againe. 
And ruled long with honorable state, 
Till he surrendered Realme and life to 

fate. 
Then all the sonnes of these five brethren 

raynd 
By dew successe, and all their Nephewes 

late; 
Even thrise eleven descents the crowne 

retaynd. 
Till aged Ilely by dew heritage it gaynd. 

XLVI. 

He had two sonnes, whose eldest, called 
Lud, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



173 



Left of his life most famous memory, 
And endlesse moniments of his great 

, good : 
The ruin'd wals he did resedifye 
Of Troynovant, gainst force of enimy, 
And built that gate which of his name is 

hight, . 
By which he lyes entombed solemnly. 
He left two sonnes, too young to rule 

aright, 
Androgens and Tenantius, pictures of his 

might. 

XLVII. 

Whilst they were young, Cassibalane, 

their Eme, 
Was by the people chosen in their sted, 
AVho on him tooke the roiall Diademe, 
And goodly well long time it governed ; 
Till the prowde Romanes him disquieted. 
And warlike Caesar, tempted with the 

name 
Of this sweet Island never conquered. 
And envying the Britons blazed fame, 
(O hideous hunger of dominion !) hither 

came. 

XLVIII. 

Yet twise they were repulsed backe 
agaiue, 
And twise renforst backe to their ships to 

fly; 

The whiles with blood they all the shore 

did staine, 
And the gray Ocean into purple dy: 
Ne had they footing found at last, perdie, 
Had not Androgens, false to native soyle, 
And envious of Uncles soveraintie, 
Betrayd his countrey unto forreine 

spoyle. 
Nought els but treason from the first this 

land did foyle. 



So by him Caesar got the victory. 
Through great bloodshed and many a sad 

assay, 
In which himselfe was charged heavily 
Of hardy Nennius, whom he yet did slay, 
But lost his swoi'd, yet to be scene this 

day. 
Thenceforth this land was tributarie 

made 
T'ambitious Rome, and did their rule 

obay, 
Till Arthur all that reckoning defrayd : 
Yet oft the Briton kings against "them 

strongly swayd. 



Next him Tenantius raignd ; then 
Kimbeline, 



What time th' eternall Lord in fleshly 
slime 

Enwombed was, from wretched Adams 
line 

To purge away the guilt of sinfull crime. 

O joyous memorie of happy time, 

Tliat heavenly grace so plenteously dis- 
play d ! 

(O too high ditty for my simple rime!) 

Soone after this the Romanes him war- 
rayd ; 

For that their tribute he refusd to let be 
payd. 

LI. 

Good Claudius, that next was Emper- 

our, 
An army brought, and with him battel le 

fought, 
In which the king was by a Treachetour 
Disguised slaine, ere any thereof thought: 
Yet ceased not the bloody fight for ought ; 
For Arvirage his brothers place supplyde 
Both in his armes and crowne, and by 

that draught 
Did drive the Romanes to the weaker 

syde. 
That they to peace agreed. So all was 

pacifyde. 

LII. 

Was never king more highly magnifide, 
Nor dredd of Romanes, then was Arvir- 
age; 
For which the Emperour to him allide 
His daughter Genuiss' in marriage : 
Yet shortly he renounst the vassallage 
Of Rome againe, who hither hastly sent 
Vespasian, that with great spoile and 

rage 
Forwasted all, till Genuissa gent 
Persuaded him to ceasse, and her lord to 
relent. 



He dide ; and him succeeded Marius, 
Who joyd his dayes in great tranquillity. 
Then Coyll ; and after him good Lucius, 
That first received Christianity, 
The sacred pledge of Christes Evangely. 
Yet true it is, that long before tliat day 
Hither came Joseph of Arimathy, 
Who brought with him the holy grayle, 

they say, 
And preacht the truth ; but since it greatly 

did decay. 

LIV. 

This good king shortly without issew 

dide. 
Whereof great trouble in the kingdome 

grew, 
That did her selfe in sondry parts divide, 



J 74 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



And with her powre her owns selfe over- 
threw, 

Whilest Romanes daily did the weake sub- 
dew: 

Which seeing, stout Bunduca up arose, 

And taking armes tfte'~~BTfitons to her 
drew ; 

With whom she marched streight against 
her foes, 

And them un wares besides the Severne 
did enclose. 

LV. 

There she with them a cruell batteill 

tryde. 
Not with so good successe as shee de- 

serv'd ; 
By reason that the Captaines on her syde, 
Corrupted by Paulinus, from her swerv'd : 
Yet, such as were through former flight 

preserv'd 
Gathering againe, her Host she did renew, 
And with fresh corage on the victor servd : 
But being all defeated, save a few, 
Rather than fly, or be captiv'd, her selfe 

she slew. 

LVI. 

O famous moniment of womens prayse! 
Matchable either to Semiramis 
Whom antique history so high doth rayse, 
Or to Hypsiphil', or to Thomiris. 
Her Host two hundred thousand numbred 

is; 
Who, whiles good fortune favoured her 

might. 
Triumphed oft against her enemis ; 
And yet, though overcome in haplesse 

fight, 
iShee triumphed on death, in enemies 

despight. 

LVII. 

Her reliques Fulgent having gathered, 
Fought with Severus, and him overthrew. 
Yet in the chace was slaine of them that 

fled, 
So made them victors whome he did sub- 
dew. 
Then gan Carausius tirannize anew. 
And gainst the Romanes bent their proper 

powre ; 
But him Allectus treacherously slew. 
And tooke on him the robe of Emperoure : 
Nath'lesse the same enjoyed but short 
happy howre : 

LVIII. 

For Asclepiodate him overcame. 
And left inglorious on the vanquisht 

playne. 
Without or robe or rag to hide his shame : 
Then afterwards he in liis stead did raigne, 
But shortly was by Cuyll in batteill slaine : 



Who after long debate, since Lucies tyme. 
Was of the Britons first crownd Soveraine. 
Then gan this Realme renew her passed 

prime : 
He of his name Coylchester built of stone 

and lime. 

LIX. 

Which when the Romanes heard, they 
hither sent 
Constantius, a man of mickle might, 
With whome king Coyll made an agree- 
ment. 
And to him gave for wife his daughter 

bright, 
Fayre Helena, the fairest living wight; 
Who in all godly thewes and goodly praise 
Did far excell, but was most famous bight 
For skil in Musieke of all in her dales. 
As well in curious instruments as cunning 
laies. 

LX. 

Of whom he did great Constantine be- 

gett. 
Who afterward was Emperour of Rome, 
To which whiles absent he his mind did 

sett, 
Octavius here lept into his roome, 
And it usurped by unrighteous doome: 
But he his title justifide by might. 
Slaying Traherne, and having overcome 
The Romane legion in dreadfull fight. 
So settled he his kingdome, and confirmd 

his right : 

LXI. 

But wanting yssew male, his daughter 
deare 

He gave in wedlocke to Maximian, 

And him with her made of his kingdome 
heyre. 

Who soone by meanes thereof the Em- 
pire wan, 

Till murdred by the freends of Gratian. 

Then gan the Hunnes and Picts invade 
this land. 

During the raigne of Maximinian ; 

Who dying left none heire them to with- 
stand. 

But that they overran all parts with easy 
hand. 

LXII. 

The weary Britons, whose war-hable 

youth 
Was by Maximian lately ledd away, 
With wretched miseryes and woefull ruth. 
Were to those Pagans made an open pray. 
And daily spectacle of sad decay : 
Whome Romane warres, which now fowr 

hundred yeares 
And more had wasted, could no whit dis-. 

may; 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



175 



Til, by consent of Commons and of Peares, 
They ci'ownd the second Constantine with 
joyous teares. 



Who having oft in batteill vanquished 
Those spoylefull Picts, and swarming Eas- 

terliugs, 
Long time in peace his realme established, 
Yet oft annoyd with sondry bordragings, 
Of neighbour Scots, and forrein Scatter- 

lings 
With which the world did in those dayes 

abound : 
Which to outbarre, with painefull pyon- 

ings 
From sea to sea be heapt a mighty mound, 
Which from Alcluid to Panwelt did that 

border bownd. 



Three sones he dying left, all under age ; 
By meanes whereof their uncle Vortigere 
Usurpt the crowne during their pupillage ; 
Which th' Infants tutors gathering to 

feare, 
Them closely into Armorick did beare: 
For dread of whom, and for those Picts 

anuoyes, 
He sent to Germany straunge aid to reare ; 
From whence eftsoones arrived here three 

hoyes 
Of Saxons, whom he for his safety im- 

ployes. 

LXV. 

Two brethren were their Capitayns, 

which hight 
Hengist and Horsus, well approv'd in 

warre, 
And both of them men of renowmed 

might; 
Who making vantage of their civile jarre, 
And of those forreyners which came from 

far re. 
Grew great, and got large portions of land. 
That in the Realme ere long they stronger 

arre 
Then they which sought at first their help- 
ing hand, 
And Vortiger have forst the kingdome to 

aband. 

LXVI. 

But by the helpe of Vortimere his sonne, 
He is againe unto his rule restord; 
And Hengist, seeming sad for that was 

donne. 
Received is to grace and new accord, 
Through his faire daughters face and flat- 

triug word. 



Soone after which three hundred Lords he 

slew 
Of British blood, all sitting at his bord ; 
Whose dolefull moniments who list to 

rew, 
Th' eternall marks of treason may at 

Stonheug vew. 

LXVII. 

By this the sonnes of Constantine, which 

tied, 
Ambrose and Uther, did ripe yeares at- 

tayne. 
And, here arriving, strongly challenged 
The crowne which Vortiger did long de- 

tayne : 
Who, flying from his guilt, by them was 

slayne; 
And Hengist eke soon brought to shame- 
full death. 
Thenceforth Aurelius peaceably did rayne. 
Till that through poyson stopped was his 

breath ; 
So now entombed lies at Stoneheng by the 

heath. 

LXVIII. 

After him Lather, which Pendragon 
hight, 
Succeeding — There abruptly it did end, 
Without full point, or other Cesure right; 
As if the rest sOme wicked hand did rend. 
Or th' Author selfe could not at least at- 
tend 
To finish it: that so untimely breach 
The Prince him selfe halfe seemed to 

offend ; 
Yet secret pleasure did offence empeach. 
And wonder of antiquity long stopt his 
speach. 

LXIX. 

At last, quite ravisht with delight to 

heare 
The royall Of spring of his native land, 
Cryde out; ' Deare countrey! O! ^ow 

dearely deare 
Ought thy remembraunce and perpetuall 

band 
Be to thy foster Childe, that from thy 

hand 
Did commun breath and nouriture re- 

ceave. 
How brutish is it not to understand 
How much to her we owe, that all us gave ; 
That gave unto us all what ever good we 

have. 

LXX. 

But Guyon all this while his booke did 
read, 
Ne yet has ended ; for it was a great 
And ample volume, that doth far excead 



176 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



My leasure so long leaves here to repeat : 
It told how first Prometheus did create 
A man, of many parts from beasts de- 

ryv'd, 
And then stole fire from heveu to animate 
His worke, for which he was by Jove de- 
pry v'd 
Of life him self, and hart-strings of an 
Aegleryv'd. 



That man so made he called Elfe, to weet 
Quick, the first author of all Elfin kynd; 
Who, wandriug through the w^orld with 

wearie feet. 
Did in the gardins of Adonis fynd 
A goodly creature, whom he deemd in 

mynd 
To be no earthly wight, but either Spright, 
Or Angell, th' authour of all woman kynd ; 
Therefore a Fay he her according hight, 
Of whom all Faeryes spring, and fetch 

their lignage right. 



Of these a mighty people shortly grew. 
And puiss'^nt kinges which all the world 

wairayd. 
And totlK in selves all Nations did subdew. 
The first and eldest, which that scepter 

swayd, 
Was Elfin ; him all India obayd, 
And all that now America men call : 
Next him was noble Elfinan, who laid 
Cleopolis foundation first of all: 
But Elfiline enclosd it with a golden wall. 



His Sonne was Elfiuell, who overcame 
The wicked CTobbelines in bloody field ; 
But Elfant was of most renowmed fame. 
Who all of Christall did Panthea build : 
Then Elfar, who two brethren gyauntes 

kild. 
The one of which had two heades, th' other 

three : 
Then Elfinor, who was in magick skild; 
He built by art upon the glassy See 
A bridge of bras, whose sound hevens 

thunder seem'd to bee. 

LXXIV. 

He left three sonnes, the which in order 
rayud, 



And all their Ofspring, iu their dew de- 
scents ; 
Even seven hundred Princes, which main- 

taynd 
With mightie deedes their sondry govern- 
ments ; 
That were too long their infinite contents 
Here to record, ne much materiall : 
Yet should they be most famous moni- 

ments. 
And brave ensample, both of martiall 
And civil rule, to kinges and states im- 
periall. 

LXXV. 

After all these Elficleos did rayne. 
The wise Elficleos, iu great Majestic, 
Who mightily that scepter did sustayne. 
And with rich spoyles and famous victorie 
Did high advaunce the crowne of Faery ; 
He left tw^o sonnes, of which faire Elferou, 
The eldest brother, did untimely dy ; 
Whose emptie place the mightie Oberon 
Doubly supplide, in spousall and dominion. 



Great was his power and glorie over all 
Which, him before, that sacred seate did 

fill, 
That yet remaines his wide memoriall. 
He dying left the fairest Tanaquill, 
Him to succeede therein, by his last will: 
Fairer and nobler liveth none this howre, 
Ne like in grace, ne like in learned skill ; 
Therefore they Glorian call that glorious 

flowre : 
Long mayst thou, Glorian, live in glory 

and great powre ! 



Beguyld thus with delight of novelties, 
And naturall desire of countryes state. 
So long they redd in those antiquities, 
That how the time was fled they quite 

forgate ; 
Till gentle Alma, seeing it so late. 
Perforce their studies broke, and them 

besought 
To thinke how supper did them long 

awaite : 
So halfe unwilling from their bookes them 

brought, 
And fay rely feasted as so noble knightes 

she ought. 



CANTO XI.] 



THE PAERIE QUEENE. 



177 



CANTO XI. 

The enimies of Teniperaunce 

Besiege her dwelling- place: 
Prince Arthnre them repelles, and fowie 

Maleger doth deface. 



What warre so cruel, or what siege so 
sore, 
As that which strong affections doe apply 
Against the forte of reason evermore, 
To bring the sowle into captivity? 
Their force is fiercer through infirmity 
Of the fraile flesh, relenting to their rage, 
And exercise most bitter tyranny 
Upon the partes brought into tlieir bon- 
dage: 
No wretchednesse is like to sinfuU vellen- 
age. 

II. 

But in a body which doth freely yeeld 
His partes to reasons rule ol)edient, 
And letteth her that ought the scepter 

weeld, 
All happy peace and goodly government 
Is setled there in sure establishment. 
There Alma, like a virgin Queene most 

bright. 
Doth florish in all beautie excellent ; 
And to her guestes doth bounteous banket 

dight, 
Attempred goodly well for health and for 

delight. 

III. 

Early, before the Morne with cremosin 
ray 
I The windowes of bright heaven opened 
had. 
Through which into the world the dawn- 
ing day 
Might looke, that maketh every creature 

glad, 
Uprose Sir Guyon, in bright armour clad. 
And to his purposd journey him prepar'd : 
With him the Palmer eke in habit sad 
Him selfe addrest to that adventure hard : 
So to the rivers syde they both together 
far'd : 

IV. 

Where them awaited ready at the ford 
The Ferriman, as Alma had behight. 
With his well-riggod bote: They goe 

abord, 
And he eftsoones gan launch his barke 

forthright. 
Ere long they rowed were quite out of 

sight, 
And fast the land behynd them fled away. 



But let them pas, whiles wind and wether 

right 
Doe serve their turnes : here I a while 

must stay, 
To see a cruell fight doen by the prince 

this day. 

v. 

For all so soone as Guyon thence was 

gon 
Upon his voyage with his trustie guyde. 
That wicked band of villeins fresh begon 
That castle to assaile on every side, 
And lay strong siege about it far and 

wyde. 
So huge and infinite their numbers were, 
That all the land they under them did 

hyde ; 
So fowle and ugly, that exceeding feare 
Their visages imprest when they ap- 

proched neare. . 



Them in twelve troupes their Captein 

did dispart, 
And round about in fittest steades did 

place. 
Where each might best offend his proper 

part. 
And his contrary object most deface. 
As every one seem'd meetest in that cace. 
Seven of the same against the Castle gate 
In strong entrenchments he did closely 

place. 
Which with incessaunt force and endlesse 

hate 
They battred day and night, and entraimce 

did awate. 

VII. 

The other five five sondry wayes he sett 
Against the five great Bulwarkes of that 

pyie. 

And unto each a Bulwarke did arrett, 
T' assayle with open force or hidden guyle, 
In hope thereof to win victorious spoile. 
They all that charge did fervently apply 
With greedie malice and importune toyle. 
And planted there their huge artillery, 
With which they dayly made most dread- 
full battery. 

VIII. 

The first troupe was a monstrous rable^ 
ment 



178 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book ii. 



Of fowle misshapen wightes, of which 

some were 
Headed like Owles, with beckes uncomely 

bent; 
Others like Dogs; others like Gryphons 

dreare ; , 

And some had wings, and some had claw^es 

to tea re : 
And every one of them had Lynces eyes ; 
And every one did bow and arrowes beare. 
All those were lawlesse lustes, corrupt 

envyes, 
And covetous aspects, all cruell enimyes. 

IX. 

Those same against the bulwarke of the 
Sight 

Did lay strong siege and battailous as- 
sault, 

Ne once did yield it respitt day nor night ; 

But soone as Titan gan his head exault. 

And soone againe as he his light with- 
hault, 

Their wicked engins they against it bent ; 

That is, each thing by which the eyes may 
fault : 

But two then all more huge and violent, 

Beautie and Money, they that Bulwarke 
sorely rent. 

X. 

The second Bulwarke was the Hearing 
sence, 

Gainst which the second troupe assign- 
ment makes ; 

Deformed creatures, in straunge differ- 
ence. 

Some having heads like Harts, some like 
to Snakes, 

Some like wilde Bores late rouzd out of 
the brakes : 

Slaunderous reproches, and fowle infa- 
mies, 

Leasinges, backbytinges, and vain-glorious 
crakes, 

Bad counsels, prayses, and false flatteries : 

All those against that fort did bend their 
batteries. 

XI. 

Likewise that same third Fort, that is 

the Smell, 
Of that third troupe was cruelly assayd ; 
Whose hideous shapes were like to 

feendes of hell. 
Some like to h(>un(les, some like to Apes, 

dismayd. 
Some like to Puttockes, all in plumes 

arayd ; 
All shap't according their conditions: 
For by those ugly formes weren pourtrayd 
Foolish delights, and fond abusious, 



Which doe that scnce besiege with light 
illusions. 

XII. 

And that fourth band which cruell 
battry bent 
Against the fourth Bulwarke, that is the 

Taste, 
Was, as the rest, a grysie rablement ; 
Some mouth 'd like greedy Oystriges; 

some faste 
Like loathly Toades ; some fashioned in 

the waste 
Like swine : for so deformd is luxury, 
Surfeat, misdiet, and unthriftie waste, 
Vaine feastes, and ydle superfluity : 
All those this sences Fort assayle inces- 
santly. 

XIII. 

But the fift troupe, most horrible of 

hew 
And ferce of force, is dreadfull to report ; 
For some like Snailes, some did like 

spyders shew, 
And some like ugly Urchins thick and 

short : | 

Cruelly they assayed that fift Fort, i 

Armed with dartes of sensuall Delight, j 

With stinges of caruall lust, and strong I 

effort I 

Of feeling pleasures, with which day and ;; 

niglit H 

Against that same fift bulwarke they 

continued fight. 



Thus these twelve troupes with dread- 
full puissauuce 
Against that Castle restlesse siege did 

lay, 
And evermore their hideous Ordinaunce 
Upon the Bulwarkes cruelly did play, 
That now it gan to threaten neare decay: 
And evermore their wicked Capitayn 
Provoked them the breaches to assay, 
Sometimes with threats, sometimes with 

hope of gayn, 
Which by the ransack of that peece they 
should attayn. 

XV. 

On th' other syde, th' assieged Castles 
ward 

Their stedfast stonds did mightily main- 
taine, 

And many bold repulse and many hard 

Atchievement wrought, with perill and 
and with payne. 

That goodly frame from mine to sus- 
tain e : 

And those two brethren Gyauntesdid 
defend 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



r79 



The walles so stoutly with their sturdie 

mayue, 
That never entraunce any durst pretend, 
But they to direfull death their groning 

ghosts did send. 



The noble Virgin, Ladie of the Place, 
Was much dismayed with that dreadful 

sight, 
For never was she in so evill cace, 
Till that the Prince, seeing her wofull 

plight, 
Gan her recomfort from so sad affright, 
Offring his service, and his dearest life 
For her defence against that Carle to 

fight, 
"Which was their chiefe and th' authour 

of that strife : 
She him remercied as the Patrone of her 

life. 

XVII. 

Eftsoones him self e in glitterand armes 

he dight. 
And his w-ell proved weapons to him 

hent; 
So, taking courteous conge, he behight 
These gates to be mibar'd, and forth he 

went. 
Fayre mote he thee, the prowest and 

most gent, 
That ever brandished bright Steele on 

hye! 
Whome soone as that unruly rablement 
With his gay Squyre issewing did espye, 
'They reard a most outrageous dreadfull 

yelling cry : 

XVIII. 

And there withall attonce at him let 

fly 

Their fluttring arrowes, thicke as flakes 

of snow. 
And round about him flocke impetuously : 
Like a great water flood, that tombling 

low 
From the high mountaines, threates to 

overflow 
With suddein fury all the fertile playne, 
And the sad husbandman s long hope doth 

throw 
Adowne the streame, and all his vowes 

make vayne ; 
^or bounds nor banks his headlong ruiue 

may sustayne. 



Upon his shield their heaped hayle he 
bore, 



And with his sword disperst the raskall 

flockes, 
Which fled asonder, and him fell before,' 
As withered leaves drop from their dryedl 

stockes. 
When the wroth Western wind does 

reave their locks : 
And underneath him his courageous 

steed. 
The fierce Spumador, trode them downe 

like docks ; 
The fierce Spumador, borne of heavenly 

seed. 
Such as Laomedon of Phoebus race did 

breed. 

XX. 

Wliich suddeine horrour and confused 
cry 

"When as their Capteine heard, in haste 
he yode 

The cause to weet, and fault to remedy : 

Upon a Tygre swift and fierce he rode, 

That as the winde ran underneath his', 
lode. 

Whiles his long legs nigh raught unto the 
ground. 

Full large he was of limbe, and shoulders 
brode. 

But of such subtile substance and un- 
sound. 

That like a ghost he seem'd whose grave- 
clothes were unbound : 

XXI. 

And in his hand a bended bow was 
scene, 
And many arrowes under his right side, 
All deadly daungerous, all cruell keene, 
Headed with flint, and fethers bloody 

dide ; 
Such as the Indians in their quivers hide : 
Those could he well direct and streight as 

line, 
And bid them strike the marke which he 

had eyde ; 
Ne was there salve, ne was there medi- 
cine. 
That mote recure their wounds; so inly 
they did tine. 

XXII. 

As pale and wan as ashes was his 

looke, 
His body leane and meagre as a rake, 
And skin all withered like a dryed rooke; 
Thereto as cold and drery as a snake, 
That seemd to tremble evermore and 

quake ; 
All in a canvas thin he was bedight, 
And girded with a belt of twisted brake : 



i8o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Upon his head he wore an Helmet light, 
Made of a dead mans skull, that seemd a 
ghastly sight. 

XXIII, 

Maleger was his name ; and after him 
There follow'd frst at hand tw^o wicked 

Hags, 
With hoary lockes all loose, and visage 

grim ; 
Their feet mishod, their bodies wrapt in 

rags, 
And both as swift on foot as chased 

Stags ; 
And yet the one her other legge had 

lame. 
Which with a staffe, all full of litle snags, 
She did support, and Impotence her 

name : 
But th' other was Impatience, arm'd 

with raging flame. 

XXIV. 

Soone as the Carle from far the Prince 

espyde 
Glistring in amies and warlike ornament. 
His Beast he felly prickt on either syde, 
And his mischievous bow full readie 

bent. 
With which at him a cruell shaft he 

sent: 
But he was warie, and it warded well 
Upon his shield, that it no further went. 
But to the ground the idle quarrell fell : 
Then he another and another did expell. 



Which to prevent the Prince his mortall 

speare 
Soone to him raught, and fierce at him 

did ride, 
To be avenged of that shot whyleare ; 
But he was not so hardy to abide 
That bitter stownd, but turning quicke 

aside 
His light-foot beast, fled fast away for 

feare : 
Whom to poursue the Infant after hide 
So fast as his good Courser could him 

beare ; 
But labour lost it was to weene approch 

him neare. 

XXVI. 

For as the winged wind his Tigre fled, 
That vew of eye could scarse him over- 
take, 
Ne scarse his feet on ground were seene 

to tred : 
Through hils and dales he speedy way 
did make, 



Ne hedge ne ditch his readie passage 

brake ; 
And in his' flight the villein turn'd his 

face 
(As wonts the Tartar by the Caspian 

lake, 
Whenas the Russian him in fight does 

chace) 
Unto his Tygres taile, and shot at him 

apace. 

XXVII. 

Apace he shot, and yet he fled apace, 
Still as the greedy knight nigh to him 

drew ; 
And oftentimes he would relent his pace. 
That him his foe more fiercely should 

poursew : 
But when his uncouth manner he did 

vew. 
He gan avize to follow him no more. 
But keepe his standing, and his shaftes 

eschew, 
Untill he quite had spent his perlous 

store. 
And then assay le him fresh, ere he could 

shift for more. 

XXVIII. 

But that lame Hag, still as abroad he 

strew 
His wicked arrowes, gathered them 

again e. 
And to him brought, fresh batteill to 

renew ; 
Which he espying cast her to restraine 
From yielding succour to that cursed 

Swaine, 
And her attaching thought her hands to 

tye; 
But soone as him dismounted on the 

plaine 
That other Hag did far away espye 
Binding her sister, she to him ran hastily ; 

XXIX. 

And catching hold of him, as downe he 

lent, 
Him backeward overthrew, and downe 

him stayd 
With their rude handes and gryesly gra- 

plement ; 
Till that the villein, comming to their ayd, 
Upon him fell, and lode upon him layd: 
Full litle wanted but he had him slaine. 
And of the battell balefuU end had 

made, 
Had not his gentle Squire beheld his 

paine, 
And commen to his reskew, ere his bitter 

bane. 



CANTO XL] 



THE FAERIE QOEENE. 



l8i 



So greatest and most glorious thing on 

ground 
May often need the helpe of weaker hand ; 
So feeble is mans state, and life unsound, 
That in assuraunce it may never stand, 
Till it dissolved be from earthly band. 
Proof e be thou, Prince, the pro west man 

alyve, 
And noblest borne of all in Britayne land ; 
Yet thee fierce Fortune did so nearely 

drive, 
That, had not grace thee blest, thou 

shouldest not survive. 

XXXI. 

The Squyre arriving fiercely in his 

armes 
Snatcht first the one, and then the other 

Jade, 
His chiefest lefts and authors of his 

harmes. 
And them perforce withheld with threat- 

ued blade, 
Least that his Lord they should behiude 

invade ; 
The whiles the Prince, prickt with re- 

prochful shame. 
As one awakte out of long slombring 

shade, 
Revivyng thought of glory and of fame. 
United all his powa-es to purge him selfe 

from blame. 



Like as a fire, the which in hollow cave 
Hath long bene underkept and down sup- 

prest. 
With murmurous disdayne doth inly rave. 
And grudge in so streight prison to be 

prest. 
At last breakes forth with furious unrest. 
And strives to mount unto his native seat ; 
All that did earst it hinder and molest, 
Yt nov/ devoures with flames and scorch- 
ing heat. 
And carries into smoake with rage and 
horror great. 

XXXIII. 

So mightely the ■ Briton Prince him 
rouzd 

Out of his holde, and broke his caytive 
bands ; 

And as a Beare, whom angry curres have 
touzd, 

Having off-shakt them and escapt their 
hands, 

Becomes more fell, and all that him with- 
stands 



Treads down and overthrowes. Now had 

the Carle 
Alighted from his Tigre, and his hands 
Discharged of his bow and deadly quar'le, 
To seize upon his foe flatt lying on the 

marie. 

XXXIV. 

Which now him turnd to disavantage 
deare ; 

For neither can he fly, nor other harme. 

But trust unto his strength and manhood 
meare, 

Sith now he is far from his monstrous 
swarme. 

And of his weapons did himselfe disarme. 

The knight, yet wrothfull for his late dis- 
grace, 

Fiercely advaunst his valorous right 
arme. 

And him so sore smott with his yron mace. 

That groveling to the ground he fell, and 
fild his place. 

XXXV. 

Wei weened hee that field was then his 

owne, 
And all his labor brought to happy end ; 
When suddein up the villeine overthrowne 
Out of his swowne arose, fresh to contend. 
And gan him selfe to second battaill bend, 
As hurt he had not beene. Thereby there 

lay 
An huge great stone, which stood upon 

one end. 
And had not bene removed many a day ; 
Some land-marke seemd to bee, or signe 

of sundry way : 

XXXVI. 

The same he snatcht, and with exceed- 
ing sway 
Threw at his foe, yvhe was right well aware 
To shonne the engin of his meant decay ; 
It booted not to thiuke that throw to 

beare. 
But grownd he gave, and lightly lept 

areare : 
Eft fierce retourniug, as a faulcon fayre, 
That once hath failed of her souse full 

neare. 
Remounts againe into the open ayre, 
And unto better fortune doth her selfe 
prepayre. 

XXXVII. 

So brave retourniug, with his brandisht 

blade 
He to the Carle him selfe agayn addrest. 
And strooke at him so sternely, that he 

made 
An open passage through his riven brest, 



152 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



That halfe the Steele behind his backe did 
rest; 

Which drawing backe, he looked ever- 
more 

When the hart blood should gush out of 
his chest, 

Or his dead corse should fall upon the 
flore; 

But his dead corse upon the fiore fell 
uathemore. 

XXXVIII, 

Ne drop of blood appeared shed to bee, 
All were the wownd so wide and wonder- 

ous 
That through his carcas one might playnly 

see. 
Halfe in amaze with horror hideous, 
And halfe in rage to be deluded thus, 
Again through both the sides he strooke 

him quight. 
That made his spright to grone full pite- 
ous; 
Yet uathemore forth fled his groning 

spright, 
But freshly, as at first, prepard himselfe 
to fight. 

XXXIX. 

Thereat he smitten was with great 

affright. 
And trembling terror did his hart apall ; 
Ne wist he what to thinke of that same 

sight, 
Ne what to say, ne what to doe at all : 
He doubted least it were some magicall 
Illusion that did beguile his sense. 
Or wandring ghost that wanted funerall. 
Or aery spirite under false pretence. 
Or hellish feend raysd up through divelish 

science. 

XL. 

His wonder far exceeded reasons reach. 
That he began to doubt his dazeled sight. 
And oft of error did himselfe appeach : 
Flesh without blood, a person without 

spright, 
Wounds without hurt, a body without 

might. 
That could doe harme, yet could not 

harmed bee. 
That could not die, yet seemd a mortall 

wight, 
That was most strong in most infirmitee ; 
Like did he never heare, like did he never 

see. 

XLI. 

Awhile he stood in this astonishment, 
Yet would he not for all his great dismay 
Give over to effect his first intent. 
And th' utmost meanes of victory assay, 



Or th' utmost yssew of his owne decay. 
His owne good sword Mordure, that never 

fayld 
At need till now, he lightly threw away, 
And his bright shield that nought him now 

avayld ; 
And with his naked hands him forcibly 

assay Id. 

XLII. 

Twixt his two mighty armes him up he 

snatcht. 
And crusht his carcas so against his brest, 
That the disdainfuU sowle he thence dis- 

patcht, 
And th' ydle breath all utterly exprest. 
Tho, when he felt him dead, adowue he 

kest 
The lumpish corse unto the sencelesse 

grownd ; 
Adowne he kest it with so puissant wrest, 
That backe againe it did alofte rebownd, 
And gave against his mother earth a 

gronefull sownd. 



As when Joves harnesse-bearing Bird 

from hye 
Stoupes at a flying heron with proud dis- 

dayne. 
The stone-dead quarrey falls so forciblye, 
That yt rebownds against the lowly 

playne, 
A second fall redoubling backe agayne. 
Then thought the Prince all peril sure was 

past, 
And that he victor onely did remayne ; 
No sooner thought, then that the Carle as 

fast 
Gan heap huge strokes on him, as ere he 

down was cast. 



Nigh his wits end then woxe th' amazed 

knight. 
And thought his labor lost, and travell 

vayne, 
Against this lifelesse shadow so to fight : 
Yet life he saw, and felt his mighty mayne, 
That, whiles he marveild still, did still 

him payne ; 
Forthy he gaii some other wayes advize. 
How to take life from that dead-living 

swayne, 
Whom still he marked freshly to arize 
From th' earth, and from her womb new 

spirits to reprize. 

XLV. 

He then remembred well, that had bene 
sayd, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



83 



How th' Earth his mother was, and first 

him bore ; 
She eke, so often as his life decayd. 
Did life with usury to him restore. 
And reysd him up much stronger then 

before, 
So soone as he unto her wombe did fall : 
Therefore to grownd he would him cast 

no more, 
Ne him committ to grave terrestriall. 
But beare him farre from hope of succour 

usuall. 

XLVI. 

Tho up he caught him twixt his puissant 

hands, 
And having scruzd out of his carrion corse 
The lothfull life, now loosd from sinfull 

bands. 
Upon his shoulders carried him perforse 
Above three furlongs, taking his full 

course 
Until he came unto a standing lake ; 
Him thereinto he threw without remorse, 
Ne stird, till hope of life did him forsake : 
So end of that Carles dayes and his owne 

paynes did make. 



Which when those wicked Hags from 

far did spye, 
Like two mad dogs they ran about the 

lands. 
And th' one of them with dreadfull yelling 

crye, 
Throwing away her broken chaines and 

bands. 
And having quencht her burning fier- 

brands, 



Hedlong her selfe did cast into that lake ; 
But Impotence with her owne wilfull 

hands 
One of Malegers cursed darts did take, 
So ryv'd her trembling hart, and wicked 

end did make. 



Thus now alone he conquerour remaines : 
Tho, cummiug to his Squyre that kept his 

steed, 
Thought to have mounted ; but his feeble 

values 
Him faild thereto, and served not his 

need, 
Through losse of blood which from his 

wounds did bleed. 
That he began to faint, and life decay: 
But his good Squyre, him helping up 

with speed, 
With stedfast hand upon his horse did 

stay, 
And led him to the Castle by the beaten 

way. 

XLIX. 

Where many Groomes and Squyres 
ready were 
To take him from his steed full tenderly ; 
And eke the fayrest Alma mett him there 
With balme, and wine, and costly spicery, 
To comfort him in his infirmity. 
Eftesoones shee causd him up to be con- 

vayd, 
And of his armes despoyled easily 
In sumptuous bed shee made him to be 

layd; 
And al the while his wounds were dress- 
ing by him stayd. 



CANTO XII. 

Guyon, by Palmers governaunce. 
Passing through perilles great, 

Doth overthrow the Bovvre of blis, 
And Acrasy defeat. 



Now ginnes that goodly frame of Tem- 
peraunce 
Fay rely to rise, and her adorned bed 
To. pricke of highest prayse forth to ad- 

vaunce, 
Formerly grounded and fast setteled 
On firme foundation of true bountyhed: 
And this brave knight, that for this ver- 

tue fightes. 
Now comes to point of that same peril- 
ous sted, 



Where Pleasure dwelles in sensuall de- 
lights, 

Mongst thousand dangers, and ten thou- 
sand Magick mights. 



Two dayes now in that sea he sayled 
has, 
Ne ever land beheld, ne living wight, 
Ne ought save perill still as he did pas : 
Tho, when appeared the third Morrpw 
bright 



1 84 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Upon the waves to spred her trembling 

light, 
An hideous roring far away they heard, 
That all their sences filled with affright ; 
And streight they saw the raging surges 

reard 
Up to the skyes, that them of drowning 

madeaffeard. 



Said then the Boteman, ' Palmer, stere 

aright, 
And keepe an even course; for yonder 

way 
We needes must pas (God doe us well 

acq night!) 
That is the Gulfe of Greediuesse, they 

say. 
That deepe engorgeth all this worldes 

pray ; 
Which haviDg swallowd up excessively. 
He soone in vomit up againe doth lay, 
And belcheth forth his superfluity, 
That all the seas for feare doe seeme 

away to fly. 



' On thother syde an hideous Rocke is 

pight 
Of mightie Magnes stone, whose craggie 

clift 
Depending from on high, dreadfull to 

sight. 
Over the waves his rugged armes doth 

lift, 
And threatneth downe to throw his ragged 

rift 
On whoso Cometh nigh ; yet nigh it 

drawes 
All passengers, that none from it can 

shift : 
For, whiles they fly that Gulfes devour- 
ing jawes, 
They on this rock are rent, and sunck in 

helples wawes.' 



Forward they passe, and strongly he 

them rowes, 
Untill they nigh unto that Gulfe arryve, 
Where streame more violent and greedy 

growes : 
Then he with all his puisaunce doth 

stryve 
To strike his oares, and mightily doth 

drive 
The hollow vessell through the threatfull 

wave ; 
Which, gaping wide to swallow them 

alyve 
In th' huge abysse of his engulfing grave. 



Doth rore at them in vaine, and with 
srreat terrour rave. 



They, passing by, that grisely mouth 
d^d see 

Sucking the seas into his entralles 
deepe, 

That seemd more horrible then hell to 
bee, 

Or that darke dreadfull hole of Tartare 
steepe 

Through which the damned ghosts doen 
often creepe 

Backe to the world, bad livers to tor- 
ment: 

But nought that falles into this direfull 
deepe 

Ne that approcheth nigh the wyde de- 
scent. 

May backe retourne, but is condemned to 
be drent. 



On thother side they saw that perilous 

Rocke, 
Threatuiug it selfe on them to ruinate, 
On whose sharp cliftes the ribs of vessels 

broke ; 
And shivered ships, which had beene 

wrecked late. 
Yet stuck with carkases exanimate 
Of such, as having all their substance 

spent 
In wanton joyes and lustes intemperate. 
Did afterwards make shipwrack violent 
Both of their life and fame, for ever 

fowly blent. 



Forthy this bight The Rocke of vile 

Reproch, 
A daungerous and detestable place. 
To which nor fish nor fowle did once 

approch, 
But yelling Meawes, with Seagulles hoars 

and bace, 
And Cormoyraunts, with birds of rav- 
enous race. 
Which still sat waiting on that wastfull 

clift 
For spoile of wretches, whose unhappy 

cace. 
After lost credit and consumed thrift, ^ 
At last them driven hath to this despaire- 

full drift. 

IX. 

The Palmer, seeing them in safetie 
past. 
Thus saide ; * Behold th' ensamples in our 

sights 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



85 



Of lustfull luxurie and thriftlesse wast. 
AVhat now is left of miserable wightes, 
Which spent their looser dales iu lend 

delightes, 
But shame and sad reproch, here to be 

red 
By these rent reliques, speaking their ill 

plightes? 
Let all that live hereby be counselled 
To shunne Rocke of Reproch, and it as 

death tod red ! ' 

X. 

So forth they rowed ; and that Ferry- 
man 
With his stiffe oares did brush the sea so 

strong, 
That the hoare waters from his frigot 

ran , 
And the light bubles daunced all along, 
Whiles the salt brine out of the billowes 

sprong. 
At last far off they many Islandes spy 
On every side tloting the tioodes eniong : 
Then said the knight; 'Lo! 1 the land 

descry ; 
Therefore, old Syre, thy course doe there- 
unto apply.' 

XI. 

' That may not bee,' said then the 

Ferryman, 
' Least wee unweeting hap to be for- 

donne ; 
For those same Islands, seeming now and 

than, 
Are not firme land, nor any certein 

wonne. 
But stragling plots which to and fro doe 

ronne 
In the wide waters: therefore are they 

hight 
The Wandriug Islands. Therefore doe 

them shonne; 
For they have ofte drawne many a 

wandriug wight 
Into most deadly daunger and distressed 

plight. 

XII. 

' Yet well they seeme to him, that farre 

doth vew, 
Both faire and fruitfull, and the groAvnd 

dispred 
With grassy greene of delectable hew ; 
And the tall trees with leaves appareled 
Are deckt with blossoms dyde in white 

and red. 
That mote the passengers thereto allure ; 
But whosoever once hath fastened 
His foot thereon, may never it recure, 
But wandreth evermore uncertein and 

unsure. 



' As th' Isle of Delos whylome, men re- 
port, 
Amid th' Aegean sea long time did stray, 
Ne made for shipping any certeine port, 
Till that Latona travelling that way. 
Flying from Junoes wrath and hard 

assay. 
Of her fayre twins was there delivered, 
Which afterwards did rule the night and 

day : 
Thenceforth it firmely was established, 
And for Apolloes temple highly berried.' 

XIV. • 

They to him hearken, as beseemeth 
meete, 
And passe on forward : so their way does 

That one of those same Islands, which 

doe fleet 
In the wide sea, they needes must passen 

i>y. 

Which seemd so sweet and pleasaunt to 

the ej'e. 
That it would tempt a man to toucheu 

there : 
Upon the banck they sitting did espy 
A daintie damsell dressing of her heare. 
By whom a little skippet floting did 

appeare . 

XV. 

She, them espying, loud to them can 

call. 
Bidding them nigher draw unto the 

shore, 
For she had cause to busie them withall ; 
And therewith lowdly laught: But nathe- 

more 
Would they once turne, but kept on as 

afore : 
Which when she saw, she left her lockes 

uiidight, 
And running to her boa,t withouten ore. 
From the departing land it launched 

light. 
And after them did drive with all her 

power and might. 



WHiom overtaking, she iu merry sort 
Them gau to bord, and purpose diversly ; 
Now faining dalliauuce and wanton 

sport, 
Now throwing forth lewd wordes im- 
modestly: 
Till that the Palmer gan full bitterly 
Her to rebuke for being loose and light : 
Which not abiding, but more scornfully 
Scoffing at him that did her justly wite, 



86 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



She turnd her bote about, and from them 
rowed quite. 



That was the wanton Phtedria, which 
late 
Did ferry liim over the Idle lake : 
Whom nought regarding they kept on 

their gate, 
And all her vaine allurements did forsake ; 
When them the wary Boteman thus be- 
spake : 
' Here now behoveth us well to avyse. 
And of our safety good heede to take ; 
For here before a perlous passage lyes, 
Where many Mermayds haunt making 
false melodies : 



' But by the way there is a great Quick- 
sand, 

And a whirlepoole of hidden jeopardy ; 

Therefore, Sir Palmer, keepe an even 
hand. 

For twixt them both the narrow way doth 

ly.' 

Scarse had he saide, when hard at hand 

they spy 
That quicksand nigh with water covered ; 
But by the checked wave they did descry 
It plaine, and by the sea discoloured : 
It called was the quickesand of Uuthrif ty- 

hed. 

XIX. 

They, passing by, a goodly Ship did see 

Laden from far with precious merchan- 
dize, 

And bravely furnished as ship might bee, 

Which through great disaventure, or mes- 
prize, 

Her selfe had ronne into that hazardize ; 

Whose mariners and merchants with much 
toyle 

Labour'd in vaine to have recur'd their 
prize, 

And the rich wares to save from pitteous 
spoyle ; 

But neither toyle nor t -aveill might her 
backe recoyle. 



On th' other side they see that perilous 

Poole, 
That called was the Whirlepoole of decay ; 
In which full many had with haplesse 

doole 
Beene suncke, of whom no memorie did 

stay: 
Whose circled waters rapt with whirling 

sway, 



Like to a restlesse wheele, still ronning 

round. 
Did covet, as they passed by that way, 
To draw their bote within the utmost 

bound 
Of his wide Labyrinth, and then to have 

them dround, 

XXI. 

But th' heedful Boteman strongly forth 

did stretch 
His brawnie armes, and all his bodie 

straine. 
That th' utmost sandy breach they shortly 

fetch, 
Whiles the dredd daunger does behind 

remaine. 
Suddeine they see from midst of all the 

Maine 
The surging waters like a mountaine rise, 
And the great sea, puft up with proud 

disdaine, 
To swell above the measure of his guise, 
As threatning to devoure all that his 

powre despise. 

XXII, 

The waves come rolling, and the billowes 

rore 
Outragiously, as they enraged were. 
Or wrathfull Neptune did them drive 

before 
His whirling eharet for exceeding feare ; 
For not one puffe of winde there did ap- 

peare, 
That all the three thereat woxe much 

afrayd, 
Unweeting what such horrour straunge 

did reare. 
Eftsoones they saw an hideous hoast 

arrayd 
Of huge Sea monsters, such as living sence 

dismayd : 

XXIII. 

Most ugly shapes and horrible aspects, 
Such as Dame Nature selfe mote feare to 

see, 
Or shame that ever should so fowle defects 
From her most cunning hand escaped bee ; 
All dreadf all pourtraicts of deformitee : 
Spring-headed Hydres; and sea-should- 

ring Whales ; 
Great whirlpooles which all fishes make 

to flee ; 
Bright Scolopendraes arm'd with silver 

scales ; 
Mighty Monoceroses with immeasured 

tayles. 

XXIV. 

The dreadful Fish that hath deserv'd 
the name 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



i«7 



Of Death, and like him lookes in dread- 
full hew ; 
The griesly Wasserman, that makes his 

game 
The flying ships with swiftnes to pursew : 
The horrible Sea-satyre, that doth shew 
His fearefull face in time of greatest 

storme ; 
Huge Ziflius, whom Mariners eschew 
No lesse then rockes, (as travellers in- 
fo rme) 
And greedy Rosraarines with visages de- 
forme. 



All these, and thousand thousands many 

more, 
And more deformed Monsters thousand 

fold. 
With dreadf ull noise and hollow rombling 

rore 
Came rushing, in the fomy waves enrold, 
Which seera'd to fly for feare them to 

behold. 
Ne wonder, if these did the knight appall ; 
For all that here on earth we dreadful! 

hold, 
Be but as bugs to fearen babes withall. 
Compared to the creatures in the seas en- 

trall. 

XXVI. 

' Feare nought,' then saide the Palmer 

well aviz'd, 
' For these same Monsters are not these 

in deed. 
But are into these fearefull shapes dis- 

guiz'd 
By that same wicked witch, to worke us 

dreed. 
And draw from on this journey to pro- 
ceed.' 
Tho lifting up his vertuous staffe on hye, 
He smote the sea, which calmed was with 

speed, 
And all that dreadf ull Armie fast gan flye 
Into great Tethys bosome, where they 

hidden lye. 



Quit from that danger forth their course 

they kept ; 
And as they went they heard a ruefull 

cry 
Of one that wayld and pittifully wept. 
That through the sea resounding plaints 

did fly : 
At last they in an Island did espy 
A seemely Maiden sitting by the shore. 
That with great sorrow and sad agony 
Seemed some great misfortune to deplore. 



And lowd to them for succour called ever- 
more. 

XXVIII. 

Which Guyon hearing streight his 

Palmer bad 
To stere the bote towards that dolefull 

Mayd, 
That he might know and ease her sorrow 

sad ; 
Who, him avizing better, to him sayd : 
' Faire Sir, be not displeasd if disobayd : 
For ill it Avere to hearken to her cry, 
For she is inly nothing ill apayd ; 
But onely womanish fine forgery, 
Your stubborne hart t'affect with fraile 

infirmity. 

XXIX. 

' To which when she your courage hath 

inclind 
Through foolish pitty, then her guilefull 

bayt 
She will embosome deeper in your mind, 
And for your ruiue at the last awayt.' 
The Knight was ruled, and the Boteman 

strayt 
Held on his course with stayed stedfast- 

nesse, 
Ne ever shroncke, ne ever sought to bayt 
His tyred amies for toylesome wearinesse. 
But with his oares did sweepe the watry 

wildernesse. 



And now they nigh approched to the 

sted 
Whereas those Mermayds dwelt : it was a 

still 
And calmy bay, on th' one side sheltered 
With the brode shadow of an hoarie hill ; 
On th' other side an high rocke toured 

still, 
That twixt them both a pleasaunt port 

they made, 
And did like an halfe Theatre fulfill : 
There those five sisters had continuall 

trade, 
And usd to bath themselves in that de- 

ceiptfull shade. 

XXXI. 

They were faire Ladies, till they fondly 
"striv'd 
With th' Heliconian maides for maystery ; 
Of whom they, over-comen, weredepriv'd 
Of their proud beautie, and th' one moyity 
Transformd to fish for their bold surque- 

dry ; 
But th' upper halfe their hew retayned 

still, 
And their sweet skill in wonted melody ; 



i88 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book ii. 



AVhich ever after they abusd to ill, 
T' allure weake traveillers, whom gotten 
they did kill. 



So now to Giiyon, as he passed by, 
Their pleasauut tunes they sweetly thus 

applyde : 
' O thou fayre sonne of gentle Faery, 
That art in mightie amies most magnifyde 
Above all knights that ever batteill tryde, 
O! turne thy rudder hitherward awhile : 
Here may thy storme-bett vessell safely 

ryde, 
This is the Port of rest from troublous 

toyle, 
The worldes sweet In from paine and 

wearisome turmoyle.' 



With that the rolling sea, resomiding 

soft, 
In his big base them fitly answered ; 
And on the rocke the waves breaking aloft 
A solemne Meane unto them measured ; 
The whiles sweet Zephyrus lowd whisteled 
His treble, a straunge kinde of harmony. 
Which Guyons senses softly tickeled. 
That he the boteman bad row easily, 
And let him heare some part of their rare 

melody. 

XXXIV. 

But him the Palmer from that vanity 
With temperate advice discounselled. 
That they it past, and shortly gan descry 
The land to which their course they 

leveled ; 
When suddeinly a grosse fog over-spred 
With his dull vapour all that desert has, 
And heavens chearefull face enveloped. 
That all things one, and one as nothing 

was, 
And this great Universe seemd one con- 
fused mas. 

XXXV. 

Thereat they greatly were dismayd, ne 

wast 
How to direct theyr way in darkenes wide, 
But feard to wander in that wasteful! 

mist. 
For tombling into mischiefe unespide : 
Worse is the daunger hidden then descride. 
Suddeinly an innumerable flight 
Of harmefull fowles about them fluttering 

cride. 
And with their wicked wings them ofte 

did smight, 
And sore annoyed, groping in that griesly 

night. 



XXXVI. 

Even all the nation of unfortunate 
And fatall birds about them flocked 

were. 
Such as by nature men abhorre and hate; 
The ill-faste Owle, deaths dreadfull mes- 

sengere ; 
The hoars Night-raven, trump of doleful! 

drere ; 
The lether-winged Batt, dayes enimy ; 
The rueful! Strich, still waiting on the 

here ; 
The whistler shrill, tliat whoso heares 

doth dy ; 
The hellish " Harpyes, prophets of sad 

destiny. 

XXXVII. 

All those, and all that els does horror 

breed. 
About them flew, and fild their sayles 

with feare : 
Yet stayd they not, but forward did pro- 
ceed, 
Whiles th' one did row, and th' other 

stifly steare ; 
Till that at last the weather gan to cleare, 
And tlie faire land it selfe did playnly 

sheow. 
Said then the Palmer ; ' Lo ! where does 

appeare 
The sacred soile wliere all our perills grow. 
Therfore, Sir knight, your ready arms 

about you throw.' 

XXXVIII. 

He hearkned, and his arraes about him 

tooke, 
The whiles the nimble bote so well her 

sped. 
That with her crooked keele the land she 

strooke : 
Then forth the noble Guyon sallied. 
And his sage Palmer that him governed ; 
But th' other by his bote behind did stay. 
They marched fayrly forth, of nought 

yd red. 
Both firmely armd for every hard assay, 
With constancy and care, gainst daunger 

and dismay. 



Ere long they heard an hideous bellow- 
ing 
Of many beasts, that roard outrageously, 
As if that hungers poynt or Venus sting 
Had them enraged with fell surquedry: 
Yet nought they feard, but past on 

hardily. 
Until! they came in vew of those wilde 
beasts. 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



189 



Who all attonce, gaping full greedily, 
And rearing fercely their upstaring crests, 
Ran towards to devoure those unexpected 
guests. 

XL. 

But soone as they approcht with deadly 

threat, 
The Palmer over them his staff e upheld, 
His mighty staffe, that could all charmes 

defeat. 
Eftesooues their stubborue corages were 

queld. 
And high advauuced crests downe meekely 

feld; 
Instead of fraying, they them selves did 

feare. 
And trembled as them passing they beheld : 
Such wondrous powre did in that staffe 

appeare. 
All monsters to subdew to him that did it 

beare. 

XLI. 

Of that same wood it fram'd was cun- 

ingly. 
Of which Caduceus whilome was made, 
Caduceus, the rod of Mercury, 
With which he wonts the Stygian realmes 

invade 
Through ghastly horror and eternall 

shade : 
Th' infernall feends with it he can 

ass wage, 
And Orcus tame, whome nothing can per- 
suade. 
And rule the Furyes when they most doe 

rage. 
Such vertue in his staffe had eke this 

Palmer sage. 



Thence passing forth, they shortly doe 
arryve 
Whereas the Bowre of Blisse was situate-; 
I A place pickt out by choyce of best alyve, 
I That natures worke by art can imitate : 
In which whatever in this worldly state 
Is sweete and pleasing unto living sense. 
Or that may dajnitest fantasy aggrate, 
Was poured forth with plentifull dis- 

pence. 
And made there to abound with lavish 
affluence. 

XLIII. 

Goodly it was enclosed rownd about, 
As well their entred guestes to keep 

within. 
As those unruly beasts to hold without ; 
Yet was the fence thereof but weake and 

thin: 



Nought feard theyr force that fortilage to 

win. 
But wisedomes powre, and temperaunces 

might, 
By wiiich the mightiest things efforced 

bin : 
And eke the gate was wrought of sub- 

staunce light. 
Rather for pleasure then for battery or 

fight. 

XLIV. 

Yt framed was of precious yvory, 
That seemd a worke of admirable witt; 
And therein all the famous history 
Of Jason and Medsea was ywritt; 
Her mighty charmes, her furious loving 

fitt; 
His goodly conquest of the golden fleece, 
His falsed fayth, and love too lightly 

fiitt; 
Th5 wondred Argo, which in venturous 

peece 
First through the Euxine seas bore all 

the flowr of Greece. 



Ye might have scene the frothy bil- 

lowes fry 
Under the ship as thorough them she 

went. 
That seemd the waves were into yvory, 
Or yvory into the waves were sent; 
And otherwhere the snowy substaunce 

sprent 
With vermeil, like the boyes blood 

therein shed, 
A piteous spectacle did represent; 
And otherwhiles, with gold besprinkeled, 
Yt seemd thenchaunted fiame which did 

Creusa wed. 

XLVI. 

All this and more might in that goodly 
gate 
Be red , that ever open stood to all 
Which thither came; but in the Porch 

there sate 
A comely personage of stature tall, 
And semblaunce pleasing, more then 

naturall. 
That travellers to him seemd to entize : 
His looser garment to the ground did fall, 
And flew about his heeles in wanton 

wize. 
Not fitt for speedy pace, or manly exer- 
cize. 

XLVII. 

They in that place him Genius did call : 
Not that celestiall powre, to whom the 
care 



190 



THE TAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Of life, and generation of all 

That lives, perteines in charge particu- 
lare, 

Who wondrous things concerning our 
welfare, 

And straunge phantomes doth lett us ofte 
foresee, 

And ofte of secret ill bids us beware : 

That is our Selfe, whom though we do 
not see, 

Yet each doth in him selfe it well per- 
ceive to bee. 



Therefore a God him sage Antiquity 
Did wisely make, and good Agdistes call ; 
But this same was to that quite contrary, 
The foe of life, that good envyes to all, 
That secretly doth us procure to fall 
Through guilefull semblants which he 

makes us see: 
He of this Gardin had the governall. 
And Pleasures porter was devizd to bee. 
Holding a staffe in hand for mere for- 
malitee. 



With diverse flowres he daintily was 

deckt, 
And strowed rownd about ; and by his 

side 
A mighty Mazer bowle of wine was sett, 
As if it had to him bene sacrifide. 
Wherewith all new-come guests he graty- 

fide: 
So did he eke Sir Guyon passing by; 
But he his ydle curtesie detide, 
And overthrew his bowle disdainfully, 
And broke his staffe with which he 

charmed semblants sly. 



Thus being entred, they behold arownd 
A large and spacious plaine, on every 

side 
Strowed with pleasauns; whose fayre 

grassy grownd 
Mantled with greene, and goodly beauti- 

fide 
With all the ornaments of Floraes pride, 
Wherewith her mother Art, as halfe in 

scorne 
Of niggard Nature, like a pompous bride 
Did decke her, and too lavishly adorne, 
When forth from virgin bowre she comes 

in th' early morne. 



Therewith the Heavens alwayes joviall 
Lookte on them lovely, still in stedfast 
state, 



Ne suffred storm e nor frost on them to 

fall. 
Their tender buds or leaves to violate ; 
Nor scorching heat, nor cold intemperate, 
T' afflict the creatures which therein did 

dwell ; 
But the milde ayre with season moderate 
Gently attempred, and disposd so well. 
That still it breathed forth sweet spirit 

and holesom smell : 

LII. 

More sweet and holesome then the 

pleasaunt hill 
Of Rhodope, on which the Nimphe that 

bore 
A gyaunt babe herselfe for griefe did kill ; 
Or the Thessalian Tempe, where of yore 
Fayre Daphne Phoebus hart with love did 

gore ; 
Or Ida, where the Gods lov'd to repayre, 
When ever they their heavenly bowres 

f orlore ; 
Or sweet Parnasse, the haunt of Muses 

fayre ; 
Or Eden selfe, if ought with Eden mote 

compayre. 

LIU. 

Much wondred Guyon at the fayre 
aspect 

Of that sweet place, yet suffred no de- 
light 

To sincke into his sence, nor mind affect. 

But passed forth, and lookt still forward 
right, 

Brydling his will and maystering his 
might. 

Till that he came unto another gate ; 

No gate, but like one, being goodly dight 

With bowes and braunches, which did 
broad dilate 

Their clasping arraes in wanton wreath- 
ings intricate : 

LIV. 

So fashioned a Porch with rare device. 
Archt over head with an embracing vine, 
Whose bounches hanging downe seemd to 

entice 
All passers by to taste their lushious wine. 
And did them selves into their hands 

incline. 
As freely offering to be gathered ; 
Some deepe empurpled as the Hyacine, 
Some as the Rubine laughing sweetely red, 
Some like faire Emeraudes, not yet well 

ripened. 

LV. 

And them amongst some were of bur- 
nisht gold, 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



191 



So made by art to beautify the rest, 
Which did themselves emongst the leaves 

enfold, 
As lurking from the vew of covetous 

guest, 
That the weake boughes, with so rich load 

opprest 
Did bow adowne as overburdened. 
Under that Porch a comely dame did 

rest 
Clad in fay re weedes but fowle disordered, 
And garments loose that seemd unmeet 

for womanhed. 



In her left hand a Cup of gold she held, 
And with her right the riper fruit did 

reach, 
Whose sappy liquor, that with fulnesse 

sweld, 
Into her cup she scruzd with daintie 

breach 
Of her fine fingers, without fowle em- 
peach. 
That so faire winepresse made the wine 

more sweet : 
Thereof. she usd to give to drinke to each. 
Whom passing by she happened to meet : 
It was her guise all Straungers goodly so 
to greet. 

LVII. 

So she to Guyon off red it to tast. 
Who, taking it out of her tender bond. 
The cup to ground did violently cast. 
That all in peeces it was broken fond. 
And with the liquor stained all the lond : 
Whereat Excesse exceedingly was wroth. 
Yet uo'te the same amend, ne yet with- 

stond, 
But suffered him to passe, all were she 

loth ; 
Who, nought regarding her displeasure, 

forward goth. 



There the most daintie Paradise on 
ground 

It selfe doth offer to his sober eye, 

In which all pleasures plenteously abownd, 

And none does others happinesse envye ; 

The painted flowres, the trees upshooting 
bye, 

The dales for shade, the hilles for breath- 
ing space. 

The trembling groves, the christall run- 
ning by, 

And, that which all faire workes doth 
most aggrace, 

The art which all that wrought appeared 
in no place. 



One would have thought, (so cunningly 

the rude 
And scorned partes were mingled with the 

fine) 
That nature had for wautonesse ensude 
Art, and that Art at nature did repine; 
So striving each th' other to undermine, 
Each did the others worke more beautify ; 
So diff'riiig both in willes agreed in fine: 
So all agreed, through sweete diversity, 
This Gardin to adorne with all variety. 



And in the midst of all a fountaine 

stood. 
Of richest substance that on earth might 

bee. 
So pure and shiny that the silver flood 
Through every channell running one 

might see ; 
Most goodly it with curious ymageree 
Was overwrought, and shapes of naked 

boyes. 
Of which some seemd with lively joUitee 
To fly about, playing their wanton toyes, 
Whylest others did them selves embay in 

liquid joyes. 



And over all of purest gold was spred 
A trayle of y vie in his native hew ; 
For the rich metall was so coloured, 
That wight who did not well avis'd it vew 
Would surely deeme it to bee yvie trew: 
Low his lascivious armes adown did 

creepe. 
That themselves dipping in the silver 

dew 
Their fleecy flowres they fearefully did 

steepe, 
Which drops of Christall seemd for wan- 
tones to weep. 



Infinit streames continually did well 
Out of this fountaine, sweet and faire to 

see, 
The which into an ample laver fell, 
And shortly grew into so great quantitie, 
Tliat like a litle lake it seemd to bee ; 
Whose depth exceeded not three cubits 

bight. 
That through the waves one might the 

bottom see. 
All pav'd beneath with Jaspar shining 

bright, 
That seemd the fountaine in that sea did 

sayle upright. 



192 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



And all the margeut round about was 
sett 
With shady Laurell trees, thence to de- 
fend 
The sunny beames which on the billowes 

bett, 
And those which therein bathed mote 

offend. 
As Guyon hapned by the same to wend, 
Two naked Damzelles he therein espyde, 
Which therein bathing seemed to contend 
And wrestle wantonly, ne car'd to hyde 
Their dainty partes from vew of any 
which them eyd. 

LXIV. 

Sometimes the one would lift the other 

quight 
Above the waters, and then downe againe 
Her plong, as over-maystered by might, 
Where both awhile would covered re- 

maine, 
And each the other from to rise restrains ; 
The whiles their snowy limbes, as through 

a vele, 
So through the christall waves appeared 

plaine : 
Then suddeiuly both would themselves 

uuhele, 
And th' amarous sweet spoiles to greedy 

eyes revele. 

LXV. 

As that faire Starre, the messenger of 

morne. 
His deawy face out of the sea doth reare ; 
Or as the Cyprian goddesse, newly borne 
Of th' Ocean's fruitful! froth, did first 

appeare : 
Such seemed they, and so their yellow 

heare 
Christalline humor dropped downe apace. 
Whom such when Guyon saw, he drew 

him neare, 
And somewhat gan relent his earnest 

pace ; 
His stubborne brest gan secret pleasaunce 

to embrace. 

LXVI. 

The wanton Maidens, him espying, stood 
Gazing awhile at his unwonted guise ; 
Theu th' one her selfe low ducked in the 

flood, 
Abasht that her a straunger did avise; 
But thother rather higher did arise, 
And her two lilly paps aloft displayd, 
And all that might his melting hart en- 

tyse 



To her delights she unto him bewrayd : 
The rest hidd underneath him more de- 
sirous made. 



With that the other likewise up arose. 
And her faire lockes, which formerly were 

bowud 
Up in one knott, she low adowne did lose, 
Which flowing low and thick her cloth'd 

arownd, 
And th' yvorie in golden mantle gowud : 
So that faire spectacle from him was reft. 
Yet that which reft it no lesse faire was 

fownd. 
So hidd in lockes and waves from lookers 

theft, 
Nought but her lovely face she for his 

looking left. 

LXVIII. 

Withall she laughed, and she blusht 

withall, 
That blushing to her laughter gave more 

grace. 
And laughter to her blushing, as did fall. 
Now when they spyde the knight to slacke 

his pace 
Them to behold, and in his sparkling face 
The secrete signes of kindled lust appeare. 
Their wanton meriments they did en- 

creace. 
And to him beckned to approch more j 

neare, 
And shewd him many sights that corage 

cold could reare. 

LXIX. 

On which when gazing him the Palmer 

saw. 
He much rebukt those wandring eyes of 

his. 
And counseld well him forward thence 

did draw. 
Now are they come nigh to the Bowre of 

blis. 
Of her fond favorites so nam'd amis. 
When thus the Palmer : ' Now, Sir, well 

avise ; 
For here the end of all our traveill is : 
Here wonnes Acrasia, whom we must sur- 
prise. 
Els she will slip away, and all our drift 

despise. 

LXX. 

Eftsoones they heard a most melodious 
sound, 
Of all that mote delight a daintie eare. 
Such as attonce might not on living 
ground, 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



93 



Save in this Paradise, be heard elsewhere : 
Right hard it was for wight which did it 

heare, 
To read what manner musicke that mote 

bee ; 
For all that pleasing is to living eare 
Was there consorted in one harmonee ; 
Birdes, voices, instruments, windes, wa- 
ters, all agree : 



The joyous birdes, shrouded in cheare- 
full shade 
'. Their notes unto the voice attempred 
^ sweet; 

.1 Th' Angelicall soft trembling voyces made 
To th' instruments divine respondence 

meet; 
The silver sounding instruments did meet 
With the base murmure of the waters 

fall ; 
The waters fall with difference discreet, 
Now soft, now loud, unto the wind did 

call; 
The gentle warbling wind low answered 
to all. 

LXXII. 

There, whence that Musick seemed 
heard to bee. 

Was the faire Witch her selfe now solac- 
ing 

With a new Lover, whom, through sor- 
ceree 

And witchcraft, she from farre did thither 
bring : 

There she had him now laid aslombering 

In secret shade after long wanton joyes; 

Whilst round about them pleasauntly did 
sing 

Many faire Ladies and lascivious boyes. 

That ever mixt their song with light licen- 
tious toyes. 

LXXIII. 

And all that while right over him she 
hong 
With her false eyes fast fixed in his sight, 
As seeking medicine whence she was 
i stong, 

I Or greedily depasturing delight ; 

And oft inclining downe, with kisses light 
For feare of waking him, his lips bedcAvd, 
And through his humid eyes did sucke his 

spright, 
Quite molten into lust and pleasure lewd : 
Wherewith she sighed soft, as if his case 
she rewd. 

LXXIV. 

The whiles some one did chaunt this 
lovely lay : 



Ah ! see, whoso fayre thing doest faine to 

see, 
In springing flowre the image of thy day. 
Ah! see the Virgin Rose, how sweetly 

shee 
Doth first peepe foorth with bashfuU 

modestee. 
That fairer seemes the lesse ye see her 

may. 
Lo ! see soone after how more bold and 

free 
Her bared bosome she doth broad dis- 
play; 
Lo! see soone after how she fades and 

falls away. 



So passeth, in the passing of a day, 
Of mortall life the leafe, the bud, the 

tlowre ; 
Ne more doth florish after first decay. 
That earst was sought to deck both bed 

and bow re 
Of many a lady', and many a Paramowre. 
Gather therefore the Rose whilest yet is 

prime, 
For Sonne comes age that will her pride 

deflowre ; 
Gather the Rose of love whilest yet is 

time, 
Whilest loving thou mayst loved be with 

equall crime. 



He ceast : and then gan all the quire of 

birdes 
Their diverse notes t'attune unto his lay. 
As in approvaunce of his pleasing wordes. 
The constant payre heard all that he did 

say, 
Yet swarved not, but kept their forward 

way 
Through many covert groves and thickets 

close. 
In which they creeping did at last display 
That wanton Lady Avith her lover lose, 
Wliose sleepie head she in her lap did 

soft dispose. 



Upon a bed of Roses she was layd. 
As faint through heat, or dight to pleas- 
ant sin ; 
And was arayd, or rather disarayd, 
All in a vele of silke and silver thin, 
That hid no whit her alablastor skin. 
But rather shewd more white, if more 

might bee : 
More subtile web Arachne cannot spin ; 
Nor the fine nets, which oft we woven 



194 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book II. 



Of scorched deaw, do not in th' ayre 
more lightly flee. 

LXXVIII. 

Her snowy brest was bare to ready spoyle 
Of hungry eies, which n'ote therewith be 

fild; 
And yet, through languour of her late 

sweet toyle, 
Few drops, more cleare then Nectar. 

forth distild, 
That like pure Orient perles adowne it 

trild ; 
And her faire eyes, sweet smyling in 

delight, 
Moystened their fierie beames, with 

which she thrild 
Fraile harts, yet quenched not; like 

starry light, 
Which, sparckiing on the silent waves, 

does seeme more bright. 

LXXIX. 

The young man, sleeping by her, seemd 

to be 
Some goodly swayne of honorable place, 
That certes it great pitty was to see 
Him his nobility so fowle deface : 
A sweet regard and amiable grace, 
Mixed with manly sternesse, did appeare. 
Yet sleeping, in his well proportiond 

face; 
And on his tender lips the downy heare 
Did now but freshly spring, and silken 

blossoms beare. 



His warlike Armes, the ydle instru- 
ments 

Of sleeping praise, were hong upon a tree ; 

And his brave shield, full of old moni- 
ments, 

Was fowly ras't, that none the signes 
might see : 

Ne for them ne for honour cared hee, 

Ne ought that did to his advauncement 
tend ; 

But in lewd loves, and wastfull luxuree, 

His dayes, his goods, his bodie, he did 
spend : 

O horrible enchantment, that him so did 
blend ! 

LXXXI. 

The noble Elfe and careful! Palmer 
drew 

So nigh them, minding nought but lust- 
full game, 

That suddein forth they on them rusht, 
and threw 

A subtile net, which only for that same 

The skilfull Palmer formally did frame ; 



So held them under fast ; the whiles the 

rest 
Fled all away for feare of fowler shame. 
The faire Enchauntresse, so unwares 

opprest, 
Tryde all her arts and all her sleights 

thence out to wrest. 

LXXXII. 

And eke her lover strove, but all in 

vaine ; 
For, that same net so cunningly was 

wound, 
That neither guile nor force might it 

distraine. 
They tooke them both, and both them 

strongly bound 
In captive bandes, which they readie 

found : 
But her in chaines of adamant he tyde ; 
For nothing else might keepe her safe 

and sound : 
But Verdant (so he hight) he soone un- 

tyde, 
And counsell sage in steed thereof to him 

applyde. 

LXXXIII, 

But all those pleasaunt bowres, and 

Pallace brave, 
Guyon broke downe with rigour pitti- 

lesse ; 
Ne ought their goodly workmanship 

might save 
Them from the tempest of his wrathful- 

uesse. 
But that their blisse he turn'd to baleful- 

nesse. 
Their groves he feld; their gardins did 

deface ; 
Their arbers spoyle ; their Cabinets sup- 

presse ; 
Their banket houses burne; their build- 
ings race; 
And, of the fayrest late, now made the 

fowlest place. 

LXXXIV. 

Then led they her away, and eke that 

knight 
They with them led, both sorrowfull and 

sad. 
The way they came, the same retourn'd 

they right, 
Till they arrived where they lately had 
Charm'd those wild-beasts that rag'd 

with furie mad ; 
Which, now awaking, fierce at them gan 

As in their mistresse reskew whom they 

lad; 
But them the Palmer soone did pacify. 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE, 



195 



Then Guyon askt, what meant those 
beastes which there did ly? 



Sayd he ; ' These seeming beasts are 
men indeed, 

Whom this Enchauntresse hath trans- 
formed thus ; 

Whylome her lovers, which her lustes 
did feed, 

Now turned into figures hideous. 

According to their mindes like mon- 
struous.' 

* Sad end,' (quoth he) 'of life intemper- 
ate, 

And mourneful meed of joyes delicious! 

But, Palmer, if it mote thee so aggrate, 

Let them returned be unto their former 
state.' 

LXXXVI. 

Streight way he with his vertuous staffe 

them strooke, 
And streight of beastes they comely men 

became ; 
Yet being men they did unmanly looke, 



And stared ghastly; soi.. fr: 

shame, 
And some for wru.th to see iHe 

Dame: 
But one above the rest in spec: 
That had an hog beone late, ii ■ 

by name, 
Repyned greatly, and did him 
That had from hoggish n. 

brcv.j^hc to DRtiirall. 



Saide Guyon ; ' See the min ^ 

man, 
That hath so soone forgot m; ■■- 
Of his creation, when he lif* br 
That now he chooseth with \ W-. 
To be a beast, and lacke inte.l'L 
To whom the Palmer thus : 

hill kinde 
Delightes in filth and fowle inc* 
Let Gryll be Gryll, and have hi 

minde ; 
But let us hence depart whiles 

serves and winde.' 



THE THIRDE BOOKE 

OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

CONTAv:Ui>!u THE LEGEND OF BRITOMARTIS, OR OF CHASTITY. 



It falls me here to write of Chastity, 
The fayrest vertue, far above the rest: 
For which what ueedes me fetch from 

Faery 
Forreiue ensaraples it to have exprest ? 
Sith it is shrined in my Soveraines brest, 
And formd so lively in each perfect part, 
That to all Ladies, which have it protest. 
Need but behold the pourtraict of her 

hart ; 
If pourtrayd it might bee by any living 

art. 

II. 

But living art may not least part ex- 
presse, 
Nor life-resembling pencill it can paynt : 
All were it Zeuxis or Praxiteles, 
His dfedale hand would faile and greatly 

faynt, 
And her perfections with his error taynt : 
Ne Poets witt, that passeth Painter farre 
In picturing the parts of beauty daynt, 
So hard a workemanship adventure darre, 
For fear, through want of words, her ex- 
cellence to marre. 



How then shall I, Apprentice to the skill 
That whilome in divinest wits did rayne, 
Presume so high to stretch mine humble 

quill ? 
Yet now my luckelesse lott doth me con- 

strayne 



Hereto perforce. But, O dredd Sover- 

ayne! 
Thus far-forth pardon, sith that choicest 

witt 
Cannot your glorious pourtraict figure 

playne. 
That I in colourd showes may shadow itt, 
And antique praises unto present persons 

fitt. 



But if in living colours, and right hew, 
Thy selfe thou covet to see pictured, 
Who can it doe more lively, or more trew. 
Then that sweete verse, with Nectar 

sprinckeled. 
In which a gracious servaunt pictured 
His Cynthia, his heavens fayrest light? 
That with his melting sweetnes ravished, 
And with the wonder of her beames bright. 
My sences lulled are in slomber of delight. 



But let that same delitious Poet lend 
A little leave unto a rustieke Muse 
To sing his mistresse prayse ; and let him 

mend, 
If ought amis her liking may abuse : 
Ne let his fayrest Cynthia refuse 
In mirrours more then one her selfe to 

see; 
But either Gloriana let her chuse. 
Or in Belphcebe fashioned to bee ; 
In th' one her rule, in th' other her rare 

chastitee. 



CANTO I. 

Guyon encountreth Britomart : 
Fayre Floriuiell is chaced : 

Duessaes traines and Malecas- 
taes champions are defaced. 



The famous Briton Prine*. and Faery 
knight, 



After long wayes and perilous paines en- 

dur'd. 
Having their weary limbes to perfect plight 



1 96 



CANTO I,] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



^97 



Restord, and soi-y wounds right well re- 
cur 'd, 

Of the faire Alma greatly were procur'd 

To make there lenger sojourne and abode ; 

But when thereto they might not be 
allur'd, 

From seeking praise and deeds of armes 
abrode, 

They courteous conge tooke, and forth 
together yode. 



But the captiv'd Acrasia he sent, 
Because of traveill long, a nigher way, 
With a strong gard, all reskew to prevent, 
And her to Faery court safe to convay ; 
That her for witnes of his hard assay 
Unto his Faery Queene he might present : 
But he him selfe betooke another way, 
To make more triall of his hardiment. 
And seek adventures as he with Prince 
Arthure went. 



Long so they travelled through waste- 
full wayes, 
Where daungers dwelt, and perils most 

did wonne, 
To hunt for glory and renowmed prayse. 
Full many Couutreyes they did overronue. 
From the uprising to the setting Sunne, 
And many hard adventures did atchieve ; 
Of all the which they honour ever wonne, 
Seeking the weake oppressed to relieve, 
And to recover right for such as wrong 
did grieve. 

IV. 

At last, as through an open plaine they 

yode, 
They spide a knight that towards pricked 

fay re ; 
And him beside an aged Squire there rode, 
That seemd to couch under his shield 

three-square, 
As if that agebadd him that burden spare, 
And yield it those that stouter could it 

wield. 
He them espying gan him selfe prepare. 
And on his arme addresse his goodly shield 
That bore a Lion passant in a golden field. 



Which seeing, good Sir Guyon deare 

besought 
The Prince of grace to let him ronne that 

turne. 
He graunted: then the Faery quickly 

raught 
His poynant speare, and sharply gan to 

spurne 



His fomy steed, whose fiery feete did 

burne 
The verdant gras a^ he thereon did tread ; 
Ne did the other batke his foote returne. 
But fiercely forward came withouten 

dread, 
And bent his dreadful speare against the 

others head. 

VI. 

They beene ymett, and both theyr points 

arriv'd ; 
But Guyon drove so furious and fell, 
That seemd both shield and plate it would 

have riv'd ; 
Nathelesse it bore his foe not from his sell. 
But made him stagger, as he were not 

well : 
But Guyon selfe, ere well he was aware, 
Nigh a speares length behind his crouper 

fell; 
Yet in his fall so well him selfe he bare. 
That mischievous mischaunce his life and 

limbs did spare. 



Great shame and sorrow of that fall he 

tooke ; 
For never yet, sith warlike armes he bore 
And shivering speare in bloody field first 

shooke, 
He fownd him selfe dishonored so sore. 
Ah ! gentlest knight, that ever armor bore. 
Let not thee grieve dismounted to have 

beene. 
And brought to grownd that never wast 

before ; 
For not thy fault, but secret powre un- 

seene : 
That speare enchaunted was which layd 

thee on the greene. 



But weenedst thou what wight thee 
overthrew. 
Much greater griefe and shamefuller re- 

grett 
For thy hard fortune then thou wouldst 

renew, 
That of a single damzell thou wert mett 
On equall plaine, and there so hard be- 

sett: 
Even the famous Britomart it was. 
Whom straunge adventure did from Brit- 
ay ne sett r 
To seeke her lover (love far sought alas!) 
Whose image shee had seene in Venus 
looking glas. 

IX. 

Full of disdainefuU wrath he fierce up 
rose 



^ 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



For to revenge that fowls reprochefuU 

shame, 
And snatching his bright sword began to 

close 
With her on foot, and stoutly forward 

came : 
Dye rather would he then endure that 

same. 
Which when his Palmer saw, he gan to 

feare 
His toward perill, and untoward blame, 
Which by that new rencounter he should 

reare ; 
For death sate on the point of that en- 

chauuted speare : 



And hasting towards him gan fayre 

perswade 
Not to provoke misfortune, nor to weene 
His speares default to mend with cruell 

blade ; 
For by his mightie Science he had scene 
The secrete vertue of that weapon keene, 
That mortall puissaunce mote not with- 

stond. 
Nothing on earth mote alwaies happy 

beene : 
Great hazard were it, and adventure fond. 
To loose long gotten honour with one evill 

bond. 

XI. 

By such good meanes he him discoun- 

selled 
From prosecuting his revenging rage : 
And eke the Prince like treaty handeled. 
His wrathf nil will with reason to aswage ; 
And laid the blame, not to his carriage. 
But to his starting steed that swarv'd 

asyde. 
And to the ill purveyaunce of his page. 
That had his furnitures not firmly tyde. 
So is his angry corage fayrly pacifyde. 

XII. 

Thus reconcilement was betweene them 
kuitt. 

Through goodly temperaunce and affec- 
tion chaste ; 

And either vowd with all their power and 
witt 

To let not others honour be defaste 

Of friend or foe, who ever it embaste ; 

Ne amies to beare against the others syde : 

In which accord the Prince was also 
plaste. 

And with that golden chaine of concord 
tyde. 

So goodly all agreed they forth yfere did 
ryde. 



O! goodly usage of those antique 

tymes. 
In which the sword was servaunt unto 

right ; 
When not for malice and contentious 

crymes, 
But all for prayse, and proofe of manly 

might, 
The martiall brood accustomed to fight: 
Then honour was the meed of victory. 
An d yet the vanquished had no despight. 
Tet later age that noble use envy, 
Vyle rancor to avoid and cruel surquedry. 



Long they thus travelled in friendly 

wise. 
Through countreyes waste, and eke well 

edifyde, 
Seeking adventures hard, to exerci.se 
Their puissaunce, whylome full dernly 

tryde. 
At length they came into a forest wyde. 
Whose hideous horror and sad trembling 

sownd. 
Full griesly seemd : Therein they long 

did ryde. 
Yet tract of living creature none they 

fownd, 
Save Beares, Lyons, and Buls, which 

romed them arownd. 



All suddenly out of the thickest brush, 
Upon a milkwhite Palfrey all alone, 
A goodly Lady did foreby them rush. 
Whose face did seeme as cleare as Chris- 
tall stone. 
And eke, through feare, as white as 

whales bone : 
Her garments all were wrought of beaten 

gold, 
And all her steed with tinsell trappings 

shone. 
Which fledd so fast that nothing mote 

him hold, 
And scarse them leasure gave her passing 
to behold. 



Still as she fiedd her eye she backward 

threw. 
As fearing evill that poursewd her fast ; 
And her faire yellow locks behind her 

flew, 
Loosely disperst with puff of every blast : 
All as a blazing starre doth farre outcast 
His hearie beames, and flaming lockes 

dispredd, 

y6 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



199 



At sight whereof the people stand aghast ; 
But the sage wisard telles, as he has 

redd, 
That it importunes death and dolefull 

dreryhedd. 



So as they gazed after her a whyle, 
Lo! where a griesly foster forth did rush, 
Breathing out beastly lust her to defyle : 
His tyreling Jade he fiersly forth did 

push 
Through thicke and thin, both over banck 

and bush, 
In hope her to attaine by hooke or 

crooke. 
That from his gory sydes the blood did 

gush. 
Large were his limbes, and terrible his 

looke. 
And in his clownish hand a sharp bore 

speare he shooke. 



Which outrage when those gentle 

knights did see. 
Full of great envy and fell gealosy 
They stayd not to avise who first should 

bee. 
But all spurd after, fast as they mote fly, 
To reskew her from shamefuU villany. 
The Prince and Guyon equally bylive 
Her selfe purse wd, in hope to win thereby 
Most goodly meede, the fairest Dame 

alive : 
But after the foule foster Timias did 

strive. 



The whiles faire Britomart, whose con- 
stant mind 
Would not so lightly follow beauties 

chace, 
Ne reckt of Ladies Love, did stay be- 

hynd, 
And them awayted there a certaine 

space, 
To weet if they would turne backe to 

that place ; 
But when she saw them gone she forward 

went, 
As lay her journey, through that perlous 

Pace, 
With ^itedfast .corage and stout hardi- 

raent : 
Ne evil thing she feard, ne evill thing she 

ment. 

XX. 

At last, as nigh out of the wood she 
came, 



A stately Castle far away she spyde. 
To which her steps directly she did frame. 
That Castle was most goodly edifyde, 
And plaste for pleasure nigh that forrest 

syde: 
But faire before the gate a spatious 

playne, 
Mantled with greene, it selfe did spredden 

wyde. 
On which she saw six knights, that did 

darrayne 
Fiers battaill against one with cruell 

might and mayne. 



Mainely they all attonce upon him laid. 
And sore beset on every side arownd. 
That nigh he breathlesse grew, yet 

nought dismaid, 
Ne ever to them yielded foot of grownd. 
All had he lost much blood through 

many a wownd, 
But stoutly dealt his blowes, and every 

way, 
To which he turned in his wrathfull 

stownd. 
Made them recoile, and fly from dredd 

decay, 
That none of all the six before him durst 

assay. 



Like dastard Curres that, having at a 

bay 
The salvage beast embost in wearie 

chace. 
Dare not adventure on the stubborne 

pray, 
Ne byte before, but rome from place to 

place 
To get a snatch when turned is his face. 
In such distresse and doubtf ull jeopardy 
When Britomart him saw, she ran apace 
Unto his reskew, and with earnest cry 
Badd those same six forbeare that single 

enimy. 

XXIII. 

But to her cry they list not lenden eare, 
Ne ought the more their raightie strokes 

surceasse. 
But gathering him rownd about more 

neare, 
Their direfuU rancour rather did en- 

ci-easse ; 
Till that she rushing through the thickest 

preasse 
Perforce disparted their compacted gyre. 
And soone compeld to hearken unto 

peace. 
Tho gan she my Idly of them to iuquyre 



200 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



The cause of their disseution and out- 
rageous yre. 



Whereto that smgle knight did answere 

frame : 
' These six would me enforce by oddes of 

might 
To chaunge my liefe, and love another 

Dame; 
That death me liefer were then such 

despight, 
So unto wrong to yield my wrested right : 
For I love one, the truest one on grownd, 
Ne list me chaunge ; she th' Errant Dani- 

zell bight ; 
For whose deare sake full many a bitter 

stownd 
I have endurd, and tasted many a bloody 

wownd.' 

XXV. 

* Certes,' (said she) ' then beene ye sixe 

to blame, 
To weene your wrong by force to justify ; 
For knight to leave his Lady were great 

shame 
That faithfull is, and better were to dy. 
All losse is lesse, and lesse the infamy. 
Then losse of love to him that loves but 

one: 
Ne may love be compeld by maistery; 
For soone as maistery comes sweet Love 

auone 
Taketh his nimble winges, and soone 

away is gone.' 

XXVI. 

Then spake one of those six ; ' There 
dwelleth here 
Within this castle wall a Lady fay re. 
Whose soveraine beautie hath no living 

pere; 
Thereto so bounteous and so debonayre. 
That never any mote with her compayre : 
She hath ordaind this law, which we 

approve. 
That every knight which doth this way 

repayre, 
In case he have no Lady nor no love, 
Shall doe unto her service, never to re- 
move: 

XXVII. 

' But if he have a Lady or a Love, 
Then must he her forgoe with fowle de- 
fame, 
Or els with us by dint of sword approve, 
That she is fairer then our fairest Dame ; 
As did this knight, before ye hither came.' 
' Perdy,' (said Britomart) ' tlie choise is 
hard ; 



But what reward had he that over- 
came ? ' 

' He should advaunced bee to high re- 
gard,' 

(Said they) ' and have our Ladies love for 
his reward. 



* Therefore aread. Sir, if thou have a 

love.' 
'Love hath I sure,' (quoth she) 'but 

Lady none; 
Yet will I not fro mine own love remove, 
Ne to your Lady will I service done. 
But wreake your wronges wrought to this 

knight alone, 
And prove his cause.' With that, her 

mortall speare 
She mightily aveutred towards one. 
And downe him smot ere well aware he 

weare ; 
Then to the next she rode, and downe the 

next did beare. 

XXIX. 

Ne did she stay till three on ground she 

layd 
That none of them himselfe could reare 

againe : 
The fourth was by that other knight dis- 
may d, 
All were he wearie of his former paine ; 
That now there do but two of six re- 

maine. 
Which two did yield before she did them 

smight. 
'Ah!' (said she then) 'now may ye all 

see plaine. 
That truth is strong, and trew love most 

of might. 
That for his trusty servaunts doth so 

strongly fight.' 



' Too well we see,' (saide they) ' and 

prove too well 
Our faulty weakenes, and your match- 

lesse might : 
Forthy, faire Sir, yours be the Damozell, 
Which by her owne law to your lot doth 

light. 
And we your liegemen faith unto you 

plight.' 
So underneath her feet their swofJs they 

mard, 
And, after, her besought, well as they 

might. 
To enter in and reape the dew reward. 
She graunted ; and then in they all to- 
gether far'd. 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



20I 



Long were it to describe the goodly 
frame, 
And stately port of Castle Joyeous, 
(For so that Castle hight by commuu 

name) 
Where they were eutertayud with cour- 
teous 
And comely glee of many gratious 
Faire Ladies, aud of manj' a gentle knight, 
Who, through a Chamber long and spa- 
cious, 
Eftsoones them brought unto their Ladies 

sight, 
That of them cleeped was the Lady of 
Delight. 

XXXII. 

But for to tell the sumptuous aray 
Of that great chamber should be labour 

lost; 
For living wit, I weene, cannot display 
The roiall riches and exceeding cost 
Of every pillour and of every post, 
Which all of purest bullion framed were. 
And with great perles and pretious stones 

embost ; 
That the bright glister of their beanies 

cleare 
Did sparckle forth great light, and glori- 
ous did appeare. 



So 



These stranger knights, through pass- 
ing, forth were led 

Into an inner rowme, whose royaltee 

And rich purveyance might uneath be red ; 

Mote Princes place be seeme so deckt to 
bee. 

Which stately manner whenas they did 
see, 

The image of superliuous riotize, 

Exceeding much the state of meane de- 
gree. 

They greatly wondred whence .so sumptu- 
ous guize 

Might be maintaynd, and each gan diverse- 
ly devize. 

xxxiv. 

The wals were round about appareileil j 
With costly clothes of Arras and of Tor. re : xxxviii. 

In which with cunning hand was pour-} Lo! where beyond he lyeth langnishinc 
trahed I Deadly engored of a great wilde Bore ; 



xxxv. 

Then with what sleights and sweet 

allurements she 
Entyst the Boy, as well that art she knew^ 
And wooed him her Paramoure to bee. 
Now making girlonds of each flowre that 

grew. 
To crowne his golden lockes with honour 

dew ; 
Now leading him into a secret shade 
From his Beauperes, and from bright 

heavens vew. 
Where him to sleepe she gently would 

perswade. 
Or bathe him in a fountaine by some 

covert glade : 



And whilst he slept sho over him would 
spred 

Her mantle, colour'd like the starry skyes. 

And her soft arme lay underneath his lied. 

And with ambrosiall kisses bathe his eyes ; 

And whilst he bath'd with her two crafty 
spyes 

She secretly would search each daintie 
lim, 

And throw into the well sAveet Rose- 
mary es, 

And fragrant violets, and Paunces trim ; 

And ever with sweet Nectar she did 
sprinkle him. 



xxxvii. 

did he steale his heedelesse hart 

away, 
And joy ' his love in secret anespyde: 
But for she saw him bent tu cruell play, 
To hu^ I the salvage beast in forrest wyde. 
Dread lull of dauDgcr tliat mote him be- 

tyde, 
She oft and oft adviz'd him to refraine 
Fr< iu chase of greater beastes, whose 

b? iitish pryde 
^lotebreede liim ^cath unwares: but all 

iu vaine ; 
For who can shun the chance that dest'ny 

doth ordaine? 



The love of Venus and her Paramoi 
The fayre Adonis, turned to a flov r 
A worke of rare device and wondr 
First did it shew the bitter balefi' ' i 
AVhich her essayd with many a '' 
When first her tender hart w 
beautie smit. 



. it . 
c ; 

< wit. 
owre, 
iit fit, 
;li his 



And by his side the Goddesse groveling 

B'^akes for him endlesse mone, and ever- 
more 

\.'ith her soft garment wipes away the 
gore 

Which staynes his snowy >kin with hate- 
full hew: 



202 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



But, when she saw no helpe might him 

restore, 
Him to a dainty flowre she did transmew, 
AVhich in that cloth was wrought as if it 

lively grew. 



So was that chamber clad in goodly 

wize : 
And rownd about it many beds were 

dight, 
As whylome was the antique worldes 

guize, 
Some for untimely ease, some for delight, 
As pleased them to use that use it might ; 
And all was full of Damzels and of 

Squyres, 
Dauncing and reveling both day and 

night. 
And swimming deepe in sensuall desyres ; 
And Cupid still emongest them kindled 

lustfull fyres. 

XL. 

And all the while sweet Musicke did 
divide 

Her looser notes with Lydian harmony ; 

And all the while sweet birdes thereto 
applide 

Their daiutie layes and dulcet melody, 

Ay caroling of love and jollity, 

That wonder was to heare their trim con- 
sort. 

Which when those knights beheld, with 
scornefull eye 

They sdeigned such lascivious disport. 

And loath'd the loose demeanure of that 
wanton sort. 

XLI. 

Thence they were brought to that great 
Ladies vew, 
Whom they found sitting on a sumptuous 

bed 
That glistred all with gold and glorious 

shew. 
As the proud Persian Queenes accus- 
tomed. 
She seemd a woman of great bountihed. 
And of rare beautie, saving that askaunce 
Her wanton eyes, ill signes of womanhed. 
Did roll too lightly, and too often glaunce, 
Without regard of grace or comely ame- 
naunce. 

XLn. 

Long worke it were, and'needlesse, co 

devize 
Their goodly entertainement and great 

glee. 
She caused them be led in courteous wize 



Into a bowre, disarmed for to be. 

And cheared well with wine and spiceree : 

The Redcrosse Knight was soon disarmed 

there ; 
But the brave Mayd would not disarmed 

bee. 
But onely veuted up her umbriere. 
And so did let her goodly visage to appere. 



As when fayre Cynthia, in darkesome 

night. 
Is in a noyous cloud enveloped. 
Where she may finde the substance thin 

and light, 
Breakes forth her silver beames, and her 

bright bed 
Discovers to the world discomfited : 
Of the poore traveller that went astray 
With thousand blessings she is heried. 
Such was the beautie and the shining ray, 
With which fayre Britomart gave light 

unto the day. 



And eke those six, which lately with 

her fought. 
Now were disarmd, and did them selves 

present 
Unto her vew, and company unsought; 
For they all seemed courteous and gent, 
And all sixe brethren, borne of one parent, 
Which had them traynd in all eivilitee, 
And goodly taught to tilt and turnament : 
Now were they liegmen to this Ladie free, 
And her knights service ought, to hold of 

her in fee. 

XLV. 

The first of them by name Gardante 

hight, 
A jolly person, and of comely vew; 
The second was Parlante, a bold knight ; 
And next to him Jocante did ensew ; 
Basciante did him selfe most courteous 

shew ; 
But fierce Bacchante seemd too fell and 

keene ; 
And yett in amies Noctante greater grew : 
All were faire knights, and goodly well 

beseene ; 
But to faire Britomart they all but sha- 

dowes beene. 



For shee was full of amiable grace 
And manly terror mixed therewithall ; 
That as the one stird up affections bace. 
So th' other did mens rash desires apall. 
And hold them backe that would in error 
fall : 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



203 



As hee that hath espide a vermeill Rose, 
To which sharp thornes and breres the 

way forstall, 
Dare not for dread his hardy hand expose, 
But wishing it far off his ydle wish doth 

lose. 

XLVII. 

Whom when the Lady saw so faire a 

wight, 
All ignorant of her contrary sex, 
(For shee her weend a fresh and lusty 

knight,) 
Shee greatly gan enamoured to wex 
And with value thoughts her falsed fancy 

vex : 
Her fickle hart conceived hasty fyre, 
Like sparkes of fire which fall in sclender 

Hex, 
That shortly brent into extreme desyre. 
And ransackt all her veines with passion 

en tyre. 

XLVITI. 

Eftsoones shee grew to great impa- 
tience, 
And into termes of open outrage brust, 
That plaine discovered her incontinence ; 
Ne reckt shee who her meaning did mis- 
trust, 
For she was given all to fleshly lust, 
And poured forth in sensuall delight. 
That all regard of shame she had discust. 
And meet respect of honor putt to flight : 
So shamelesse beauty soone becomes a 
loathly sight. 

XLIX. 

Faire Ladies, that to love captived arre. 

And chaste desires doe nourish in your 
mind, 

Let not her fault your sweete affections 
marre, 

]Ne blott the bounty of all womankind, 

'Mongst thousands good one wanton Dame 
to find : 

Emongst the Roses grow some wicked 
weeds : 

For this was not to love, but lust, iuclind ; 

For love does alwaies bring forth boun- 
teous deeds, 

And in each gentle hart desire of honor 
breeds. 

L. 

Nought so of love this looser Dame did 

skill. 
But as a cole to kindle fleshly flame. 
Giving the bridle to her wanton will. 
And treading under foote her honest 

name: 
Such love is hate, and such desire is 

shame. 



Still did she rove at her with crafty 

glaunce 
Of her false eies, that at her hart did 

ayme. 
And told her meaning in her counte- 

naunce ; 
But Britomart dissembled it with igno- 

raunce. 

LI. 

Supper was shortly dight, and downe 
they satt; 

Where they were served with all sump- 
tuous fare. 

Whiles fruitfull Ceres and Lyseus fatt 

Pourd out their plenty without spight 
or spare. 

Nought wanted there that dainty was 
and rare. 

And aye the cups their bancks did over- 
flow; 

And aye betweene the cups she did pre- 
pare 

Way to her love, and secret darts did 
throw ; 

But Britomart would not such guilfull 
message know. 



So, when they slaked had the fervent 

heat 
Of appetite with meates of every sort. 
The Lady did faire Britomart entreat 
Her to disarme, and with delightfull 

sport 
To loose her warlike limbs and strong 

effort ; 
But when shee mote not thereunto be 

wonne, 
(For shee her sexe under that straunge 

purport 
Did use to hide, and plaine apparaunce 

shonne) 
In playner wise to tell her grievaunce she 

begonne. 



And all attonce discovered her desire 
With sighes, and sobs, and plaints, and 

piteous griefe, 
The outward sparkes of her inhuming 

fire; 
Which spent in vaine, at last she told her 

briefe. 
That but if she did lend her short reliefe 
And doe her comfort, she mote algates 

dye: 
But the chaste damzell, that had never 

priefe 
Of such malengine and fine forgerye, 
Did easely beleeve her strong extremitye. 



204 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



Full easy was for her to have beliefe, 
AVho by self-feeliug of her feeble sexe, 
And by loug trlall of the inward griefe 
Wherewith imperious love her hart did 

vexe, 
Cuuld judge what paines doe loving harts 

perplexe. 
Who meanes no guile be guiled soonest 

shall, 
And to faire semblaunce doth light faith 

annexe : 
The bird that knowes not the false 

fowlers call, 
Into his hidden nett full easely doth fall. 

LV. 

Forthy she would not in discourteise 

wise 
Scorne the faire offer of good will pro- 

fest; 
For great rebuke it is love to despise, 
Or rudely sdeigne a gentle harts request, 
But with faire counteuaunce, as beseemed 

best. 
Her entertaynd : nath'lesse shee inly 

deemd 
Her love too light, to wooe a wandring 

guest; 
Which she misconstruing, thereby es- 
teem d 
That from like inward fire that outward 

smoke had steemd. 



Therewith a while she her flit fancy 
fedd. 

Till she mote winne fit time for her de- 
sire; 

But yet her wound still inward freshly 
bledd. 

And through her bones the false instilled 
fire 

Did spred it selfe, and venime close in- 
spire. 

Tho were the tables taken all away ; 

And every knight, and every gentle 
Squire, 

Gan choose his Dame with Bascbnmio 
gay, 

With whom he ment to make his sport 
and courtly play. 

LVII. 

Some fell to daunce, some fel to haz- 
ard ry, 

Some to make love, some to make mery- 
ment, 

As diverse witts to diverse things apply ; 

And all the while faire Malecasta bent 



Her crafty engins to her close intent. 
By this th' eternall lampes, where with 

high Jove 
Doth light the lower world, where halfe 

y spent. 
And the moist daughters of huge Atlas 

strove 
Into the Ocean deepe to drive their weary 

drove. 

LVIII. 

High time it seemed then for everie 

wight 
Them to betake unto their kindly rest : 
Eftesoones long waxen torches weren 

light 
Unto their bowres to guy den every 

guest. 
Tho, when the Briton esse saw all the 

rest 
Avoided quite, she gan her selfe despoile. 
And safe committ to her soft fethered 

nest ; 
Wher through long watch, and late dales 

weary toile. 
She soundly slept, and carefull thoughts 

did quite assoile. 



Now whenas all the world in silence 

deepe 
Yshrowded was, and every mortall 

wight 
Was drowned in the depth of deadly 

sleepe ; 
Faire Malecasta, whose engrieved spright 
Could find no rest in such perplexed 

plight. 
Lightly arose out of her wearie bed. 
And, under the blacke vele of guilty 

Night, 
Her with a scarlott mantle covered 
That was with gold and Ermines faire 

enveloped. 



Then panting softe, and trembling 

every joynt, 
Her fearfull feete towards the bowre she 

mov'd, 
Where she for secret purpose did appoynt 
To lodge the warlike maide, unwisely 

ioov'd ; 
And, to her bed approching, first she 

proov'd 
Whether she slept or wakte: with her 

softe hand 
She softely felt if any member moov'd, 
And lent her wary eare to understand 
If any puffe of breath or sigue of seuce 

shee fond. 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



205 



Which whenas none she fond, with 

easy shiite, 
For feare least her unwares she should 

abrayd, 
Th' embroder'd quilt she lightly up did 

lifte, 
And by her side her selfe she softly layd, 
Of every finest fingers touch affrayd ; 
Ne any noise she made, ne word she spake, 
But inly sigh'd. At last the royall Mayd 
Out of her quiet slomber did awake, 
And chaunged her weary side the better 

ease to take. 



Where feeling one close couched by 

her side, 
She lightly lept out of her filed bedd, 
And to her weapon ran, in minde to gride 
The loathed leachour. But the Dame, 

halfe dedd 
Through suddein feare and ghastly dreri- 

hedd, 
Did shrieke alowd, that through the hous 

it rong, 
And the whole family, therewith ad redd. 
Rashly out of their rouzed couches 

sprong, 
And to the troubled chamber all in arms 

did throng. 

LXIJI. 

And those sixe knights, that ladies 

Champions 
And eke the Redcrosse knight ran to the 

stownd. 
Halfe armd and halfe unarmed, with 

them attons: 
Where when confusedly they came, they 

fownd 
Their lady lying on the sencelesse grownd : 
On thother side they saw the warlike 

Mayd 
Al in her snow-white smocke, with locks 

unbownd, 
Threatning the point of her avenging 

blaed ; 
That with so troublous terror they were all 

dismayd. 

LXIV. 

About their Ladye first they flockt 

arownd ; 
Whom having laid in comfortable couch, 
Shortly they reard out of her frosen 

swownd ; 
And afterwardes they gan with fowle 

reproch 
To stirre up strife, and troublous con- 

tecke broch: 
But by ensample of the last dayes losse. 



None of them rashly durst to her ap- 

proch, 
Ne in so glorious spoile themselves em- 

bosse : 
Her succourd eke the Champion of the 

bloody Crosse. 

LXV. 

But one of those sixe knights. Gar- 
dan te hight, 
Drew out a deadly bow and arrow keene. 
Which forth he sent, with felonous de- 

spight 
And fell intent, against the virgin sheene : 
The mortall Steele stayd not till it was 

scene 
To gore her side ; yet was the wound not 

deepe, 
But lightly rased her soft silken skin. 
That drops of purple blood there out did 

weepe, 
Which did her lilly smock with staines of 
vermeil steep. 

LXVI. 

Wherewith enrag'd she fiercely at 

them flew, 
And with her flaming sword about her 

layd. 
That none of them foule mischiefe could 

eschew. 
But with her dreadfuU strokes were all 

dismayd : 
Here, there, and every where, about her 

swayd 
Her wrathfuU Steele, that none mote it 

abyde ; 
And eke the Redcrosse knight gave her 

good ayd. 
Ay joyniiig foot to foot, and syde to 

syde; 
That in short space their foes they have 

quite terrifyde. 

LXVII. 

Tho, whenas all were put to shamefull 

flight. 
The noble Britomartis her arayd, 
And her bright armes about her body 

dight. 
For nothing would she lenger there be 

stayd. 
Where so loose life, and so ungentle 

trade, 
Was usd of knightes and Ladies seeming 

gent: 
So earely, ere the grosse Earthes gryesy 

shade 
Was all disperst out of the firmament, 
They tooke their steeds, and forth upon 

their journey went. 



206 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[BOOK III. 



CANTO II. 

The Redcrosse knight to Britomart 

Describeth Artegall : 
The wondrous myrrhour, by which she 

lu love with him did fall. 



Here have I cause in men just blame 

to find, 
That in their proper praise too partiall 

bee, 
And not indifferent to woman kind. 
To whom no share in armes and chevalree 
They doe impart, ne maken memoree 
Of their brave gestes and prowesse mar- 

tiall : 
Scarse do they spare to one, or two, or 

three, 
Rowme in their writtes ; yet the same 

writing small 
Does all their deedes deface, and dims their 

glories all. 

II. 

But by record of antique times I finde 

That wemen wont in warres to beare most 
sway. 

And to all great exploites them selves in- 
clind. 

Of which they still the girlond bore away ; 

Till envious Men, fearing their rules de- 
cay, 

Gan coyne streight lawes to curb their 
liberty : 

Yet sith they warlike armes have laide 
away. 

They have exceld in artes and pollicy, 

That now we foolish men that prayse gin 
eke t'envy. 

III. 

Of warlike puissaunce in ages spent. 
Be thou, faire Britomart, whose prayse I 

wryte ; 
But of all wisedom bee thou precedent, 
O soveraine Queene! whose prayse I 

would endyte, 
Endite I would as dewtie doth excyte ; 
But ah! my rymes too rude and rugged 

arre. 
When in so high an object they do lyte. 
And, striving fit to make, I feare, doe 

marre : 
Thy selfe thy prayses tell, and make them 

knowen farre. 



She, travelling with Guyon, by the way 
Of sondry thinges faire purpose gan to find. 



T'abridg their journey long, and lingring 

day; 
Mongst which it fell into that Fairies 

mind 
To aske this Briton Maid, what uncouth 

wind 
Brought her into those partes, and what 

inquest 
Made her dissemble her disguised kind ? 
Faire Lady she him seenid, like Lady 

drest. 
But fairest knight alive, when armed was 

her brest. 

V. 

Thereat she sighing softly had no powre 
To vspeake a while, ne ready auswere 

make ; 
But with hart-thrilling throbs and bitter 

stowre. 
As if she had a fever fitt, did quake. 
And every daintie limbe with horrour 

shake ; 
And ever and anone the rosy red 
Flasht through her face, as it had beene 

a flake 
Of lightning through bright heven ful- 

mined : 
At last, the passion past, she thus him 

answered. 

VI. 

' Faire Sir, I let you weete, that from 

the hnwre 
I taken was from nourses tender pap, 
I have been trained up in warlike stowre. 
To tossen speare and shield, and to affrap 
The warlike ryder to his most mishap : 
Sithence I loathed have my life to lead, 
As Ladies wont, in pleasures wanton lap. 
To finger the fine needle and nyce thread, 
Me lever were with point of foemans 

speare be dead. 



' All my delight on deedes of armes is 

sett, 
To hunt out perilles and adventures hard, 
By sea, by land, where so they may be 

mett, 
Onely for honour and for high regard, 
Without respect of richesse or reward: 
For such intent into these partes I came. 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



207 



Withouten compasse or witliouten card, 
Far fro my native soyle, that is by name 
The greater Brytayue, here to seek for 
praise and fame. 

VIII. 

' Fame blazed hath, that here in Faery 

lond 
Doe many famous knightes and Ladies 

wonne, 
And many straunge adventures to bee 

fond, 
Of which great worth and worship may 

be wonne ; 
Which to prove, I this voyage have be- 

goune. 
But mote I weet of you, right courteous 

knight, 
Tydings of one that hath unto me donne 
Late foule dishonour and reprochfuU 

spight. 
The which I seeke to wreake, and Arthe- 

gall he hight.' 



The worde gone out she backe againe 

would call, 
As her repenting so to have missayd. 
But that he, it uptaking ere the fall. 
Her shortly answered : ' Faire martiall 

Mayd, 
Certes ye misavised beene t'upbrayd 
A gentle knight with so uuknightly blame ; 
For, weet ye well, of all that ever playd 
At tilt or tourney, or like warlike game. 
The noble Arthegall hath ever borne the 

name. 

X. 

' Forthy great wonder were it, if such 
shame 

Should ever enter in his bounteous 
thought. 

Or ever doe that mote deserven blame : 

The noble corage never weeneth ought 

That may unworthy of it selfe be thought. 

Therefore, faire Damzell, be ye well 
aware. 

Least that too farre ye have your sorrow 
sought : 

You and your countrey both I wish wel- 
fare, 

And honour both ; for each of other wor- 
thy are.' 

XI. • 

The royall Maid woxe inly wondrous 
glad, 
To heare her Love so highly magnifyde ; 
And joyd that ever she affixed had 
Her hart on knight so goodly glorifyde. 
How ever finely she it faind to hyde. 



The loving mother, that nine monethes 

did beare 
In the deare closett of her painefull syde 
Her tender babe, it seeing safe appeare. 
Doth not so much rejoyce as she rejoyced 

theare. 



But to occasion him to further talke. 
To feed her humor with his pleasing style. 
Her list in stryfull termes with him to 

balke. 
And thus replyde : ' How ever. Sir, ye fyle 
Your courteous tongue his prayses to 

compyle, 
It ill beseemes a knight of gentle sort. 
Such as ye have him boasted , to beguyle 
A simple maide, and worke so hainous tort. 
In shame of knighthood, as I largely can 

report. 

XIII. 

' Let bee therefore my vengeaunce to 
disswade, 
And read where I that faytour false may 

find.' 
' Ah ! but if reason faire might you per- 

swade 
To slake your wrath, and mollify your 

mind,' 
(Said he) ' perhaps ye should it better find : 
For bardie thing it is, to weene by might 
That man to hard conditions to bind. 
Or ever hope to match in equall fight. 
Whose prowesse paragone saw never liv- 
ing wight. 



' Ne soothlich is it easie for to read 
Where now on earth, or how, he may be 

f ownd ; 
For he ne wonneth in one certeine stead. 
But restlesse walketh all the world 

arownd, 
Ay doing thinges that to his fame re- 

downd. 
Defending Ladies cause and Orphans 

right, 
Whereso he heares that any doth con- 

fownd 
Them comfortlesse through tyranny or 

might : 
So is his soveraine honour raisde to hevens 

hight.' 

XV. 

His feeling wordes her feeble sence much 
pleased. 
And softly sunck into her molten hart : 
Hart that is inly hurt is greatly eased 
With hope of thing that may allegge his 

smart ; 
For pleasing wordes are like to Magick art, 



208 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



That doth the charmed Snake in slomber 

lay. 
Such secrete ease felt gentle Britomart, 
Yet list the same efforce with faind gaine- 

say; 
So dischord ofte in Musick makes the 

sweeter lay : — 



And sayd ; ' Sir knight, these ydle 
termes forbeare ; 

And, sith it is uneath to finde his haunt, 

Tell me some markes by which he may 
appeare, 

If chaunce I him encounter paravaunt ; 

For perdy one shall other slay, or daunt : 

What shape, what shield, what armes, 
what steed, what stedd, 

And what so else his person most may 
vaunt ? ' 

All which the Redcrosse knight to point 
aredd, 

And him in everie part before her fash- 
ioned. 

XVII. 

Yet him in everie part before she knew. 
However list her now her knowledge 

fayne, 
Sith him whylome in Britayne she did 

vew. 
To her revealed in a mirrhour playne ; 
Whereof did grow her first engraffed 

payne, 
Whose root and stalke so bitter yet did 

taste, 
That but the fruit more sweetnes did con- 

tayne, 
Her wretched dayes in dolour she mote 

waste. 
And yield the pray of love to lothsome 

death at last. 

XVIII. 

By straunge occasion she did him be- 
hold, 
And much more straungely gan to love 

his sight. 
As it in bookes hath written beene of 

old. 
In Deheubarth, that now South-wales is 

bight. 
What time king Ryence raign'd and 

dealed right. 
The great Magitien Merlin had deviz'd. 
By his deepe science and hell-dreaded 

might, 
A looking glasse, right wondrously 

\ aguiz'd, 
'VV'hose vertues through the wyde worlde 

soone were solemniz'd. 



It vertue had to shew in perfect sight 
Whatever thing was in the world con- 

taynd, 
Betwixt the lowest earth and hevens 

bight. 
So that it to the looker appertaynd : 
Whatever foe had wrought, or frend had 

faynd, 
Therein discovered was, ne ought mote 

pas, 
Ne ought in secret from the same re- 

maynd ; 
Forthy it round and hollow shaped was. 
Like to the world itselfe, and seemd a 

world of glas. 

XX. 

Who wonders not, that reades so won- 

derous worke ? 
But who does wonder, that has red the 

Towre 
Wherein th' Aegyptian Phao long did 

lurke 
From all mens vew, that none might her 

discoure, 
Yet she might all men vew out of her 

bowre ? 
Great Ptolomaee it for his lemans sake 
Ybuilded all of glasse, by Magicke powre, 
And also it impregnable did make; 
Yet when his love was false he with a 

peaze it brake. 

XXI. 

Such was the glassy globe that Merlin 
made. 
And gave unto king Ryence for his gard, 
That never foes his kingdome might in- 
vade. 
But he it knew at home before lie hard 
Tydings thereof, and so them still debar 'd. 
It was a famous Present for a Prince, 
Aud worthy worke of infinite reward. 
That treasons could bewray, and foes con- 
vince : 
Happy this Realme, had it remayned ever 
since! 

XXII. 

One day it fortnned fayre Britomart 
Into her fathers closet to repay re ; 
For nothing he from her reserv'd apart, 
Being his onely daughter and his hayre ; 
Where when she had espyde that mirrhour 

fayre. 
Her selfe awhile therein she vewd in 

vaine : 
Tho, her avizing of the vertues rare 
Which thereof spoken were, she gan 

againe 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



209 



Her to bethiuke of that mote to her selfe 
pertaiue. 

XXIII, 

But as it falleth, in the gentlest harts 
Imperious Love hath highest set his 

throne, 
And tyrannizeth in the bitter smarts 
Oi them that to him buxome are and 

prone : 
So thought this Mayd (as maydens use to 

done) 
AVhom fortune for her husband would 

allot : 
Not that she lusted after any one, 
For she was pure from blame of sinfuU 

blott; 
Yet wist her life at last must lincke in 

that same knot. 

XXIV. 

Eftsoones there was presented to her 

eye 
A comely knight, all arm'd in complete 

wize, 
Through whose bright ventayle, lifted up 

on hye, 
His manly face, that did his foes agrize, 
And f rends to termes of gentle truce 

entize, 
Lookt foorth, as Phoebus face out of the 

east 
Betwixt two shady mountaynes doth 

arize : 
Portly his person was, and much increast 
Through his Heroicke grace and honor- 
able gest. 

XXV. 

His crest was covered with a couchant 

Hownd, 
And all his armour seemd of antique 

mould, 
But wondrous massy and assured sownd, 
And round about yf retted all with gold. 
In which there written was, with cyphres 

old, 
Achilles armes, lohich Arthegall did win^ 
And on his shield enveloped sevenfold 
He bore a crowned little Ermelin, 
That deckt the azure field with her fayre 

pouldred skin. 

XXVI. 

The Damzell well did. vew his Person- 
age 
And liked well, ne further fastned not. 
But went her way ; ne her unguilty age 
Did weene, unwares, that her unlucky 

lot 
Lay hidden in the bottome of the pot. 



Of hurt unwist most daunger doth re- 
dound ; 

But the false Archer, which that arrow 
shot 

So slyly that she did not feele the wound. 

Did smyle full smoothly at her weetlesse 
wofull stound. 

XXVII. 

Thenceforth the fether in her lofty 

crest. 
Ruffed of love, gan lowly to availe ; 
And her prowd portaunce and her princely 

gest. 
With which she earst tryumphed, now 

did quaile : 
Sad, solemne, sowre, and full of fancies 

fraile, 
She woxe ; yet wist she nether how, nor 

why. 
She wist not, silly Mayd, what she did 

aile. 
Yet wist she was not well at ease perdy ; 
Yet thought it was not love, but some 

melancholy. 

XXVIII. 

So soone as Night had with her pallid 

hew - 

Defaste the beautie of the ^hyning skye. 
And refte from men the worldes desired 

vew. 
She with her Nourse adowne to sleepe did 

lye; 
But sleepe full far away from her did fly: 
In stead thereof sad sighes and sorrowes 

deepe 
Kept watch and ward about her warily, 
That nought she did but wayle, and often 

steepe 
Her dainty couch with teares which closely 

she did weepe. 



And if that any drop of slombring rest 
Did chaunce to still into her weary 

spright, 
When feeble nature felt her selfe opprest, 
Streight-way with dreames, and with fan- 

tastick sight 
Of dreadfull things, the same was put to 

flight ; 
That oft out of her bed she did astart, 
As one with vew of ghastly f eends affright : 
Tho gan she to renew her former smart, 
And thinke of that fayre visage written 

in her hart. 

XXX. 

One night, when she was tost with such 
unrest, 



2IO 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Her aged Nourse, whose name was Glauce 

hight, 
Feeling her leape out of her loathed 

nest, 
Betwixt her feeble armes her quickly 

keight, 
And downe agaiue her in her warme bed 

dight: 
* Ah! my deare daughter, ah! my dearest 

dread, 
What uncouth fit,' (sayd she) ' what evill 

plight 
Hath thee opprest, and with sad dreary- 
head 
Chaunged thy lively cheare, and living 

made thee dead ? 

XXXI. 

' For not of nought these suddein 

ghastly feares 
All night aftiict thy naturall repose ; 
And all the day, when as thine equall 

peares 
Their fit disports with faire delight doe 

chose. 
Thou in dull corners doest thy selfe in- 
close ; 
Ne tastest Princes pleasures, ne doest 

spred 
Abroad thy fresh youths fayrest flowre, 

but lose 
Both leafe and fruite, both too untimely 

shed, 
As one in wilfull bale for ever buried. 

XXXII. 

' The time that mortall men their weary 
cares 
Do lay away, and all wilde beastes do 

rest. 
And every river eke his course forbeares, 
Then doth this wicked evill thee infest, 
And rive with thousand throbs thy thrilled 

brest : 
Like an huge Aetn' of deepe engulfed 

gryefe, 
Sorrow is heaped in thy hollow chest, 
Whence foorth it breakes in sighes and 

anguish ryfe, 
As smoke and sulphure mingled with con- 
fused stryfe. 

XXXIII. 

'Ay me! how much I feare least love 

it bee! 
But if that love it be, as sure I read 
By knowen signes and passions which 

I see. 
Be it worthy of thy race and royall sead, 
Then I avow, by this most sacred head 



Of my deare foster childe, to ease thy 

grief e 
And win thy will : Therefore away doe 

dread ; 
For death nor daunger from thy dew 

reliefe 
Shall me debarre : tell me therefore, my 

liefest liefe ! ' 



So having sayd, her twixt her armes 
twaine 

Shee streightly straynd, and colled ten- 
derly ; 

And every trembling joynt and every 
vaine 

Shee softly felt, and rubbed busily. 

To doe the f roseu cold away to fly ; 

And her faire deawy eies with kisses 
deare 

Shee ofte did bathe, and ofte againe did 
dry; 

And ever her importund not to feare 

To let the secret of her hart to her ap- 
peare. 

XXXV. 

The Damzell pauzd ; and then thus fear- 
fully : 
' Ah ! Nurse, what needeth thee to eke my 

payne ? 
Is not enough that I alone doe dye, 
But it must doubled bee with death of 

twaine ? 
For nought for me but death there doth 

remaine.' [ 

' O daughter deare ! ' (said she) ' despeire 

no whit ; 
For never sore but might a salve obtaine : 
That blinded God, which hath ye blindly 

smit, 
Another arrow hath your lovers hart to 

hit.' 

XXXVI. 

' But mine is not ' (quoth she) ' like 

other wownd ; 
For which no reason can finde remedy.' 
' Was never such, but mote the like be 

fownd,' 
(Said she) ' and though no reason may 

apply 
Salve to your sore, yet love can higher 

stye 
Then reasons reach, and oft hath wonders 

donne.' 
' But neither God of love nor God of skye 
Can doe ' (said she) ' that which cannot 

be donne.' 
' Things ofte impossible ' (quoth she) 

* seeme, ere begonue. 



.i-RIE QUEEN K. 



211 



XXXVII. 

' These idle wordes ' (said sli ^ ' doe 

iiought aswage 
My stubborue smart, but more annoiauuce 

breed : 
For no, no usuall fire, no iisuall rage 
Yt is, O Nourse ! which on my life doth 

feed, 
And sucks the blood which from my hart 

doth bleed : 
But since thy faithful zele lets me not 

hyde 
My crime, (if crime it be) I will it reed. 
Nor Prince nor pere it is, whose love hath 

gryde 
My feeble brest of late, and launched this 

wound wyde. 



' Nor man it is, nor other living wight, 
For then some hope I might unto me 

draw ; 
But th' only shade and semblant of a 

knight, 
Whose shape or person yet I never saw, 
Hath me subjected to loves cruell law : 
The same one day, as me misfortune led, 
I in my fathers wondrous mirrhour saw, 
And, pleased with that seeming goodly- 

hed, 
Unwares the hidden hooke with baite I 

swallowed. 



' Sithens it hath infixed faster hold 
"Within my bleeding bowells, and so sore 
Now ranckleth in this same fraile fleshly 

mould, 
That all my entrailes flow with poisnous 

gore. 
And th' ulcer groweth daily more and 

more ; 
Ne can my ronning sore finde remedee, 
Other then my hard fortune to deplore. 
And languish, as the leafe fain from the 

tree, 
Till death make one end of my dales and 

miseree ! ' 

XL. 

'Daughter,' (said she) 'what need ye 

be dismayd ? 
Or why make ye such Monster of your 

minde? 
Of much more uncouth thing I was 

affrayd. 
Of filthy lust, contrary unto kinde ; 
But this affection nothing straunge I finde ; 
For who with reason can you aye reprove 
To love the semblaunt pleasing most your 

minde, 



And yield your heart whence ye cannot 

remove ? 
No guilt in you, but in the tyranny of 

love. 



* Not so th' Arabian Myrrhe diiX set her 

mynd. 
Nor so did Biblis spend her pining hart; 
But lov'd their native flesh against al 

kynd, 
And to their purpose used wicked art : 
Yet playd Pasiphae a more monstrous 

part, 
That lov'd a Bui, and learnd a beast to 

bee. 
Such shamefull lustes who loaths not, 

which depart 
From course of nature and of modestee? 
Sweete love such leM^dnes bands from his 

faire companee. 



' But thine, my Deare, (welfare thy 

heart, my deare!) 
Though straunge beginning had, yet fixed 

is 
On one that worthy may perhaps appeare ; 
And certes seemes bestowed not amis : 
Joy thereof have thou and eternall blis! ' 
With that, upleaningon her elbow weake. 
Her alablaster brest she soft did kis. 
Which all that while shee felt to pant and 

quake. 
As it an Earth-quake were: at last she 

thus bespake. 

XLIII. 

* Beldame, your words doe worke me 

litle ease ; 
For though my love be not so lewdly bent 
As those ye blame, yet may it nought 

appease 
My raging smart, ne ought my flame 

relent. 
But rather doth my helpelesse griefe aug- 
ment ; 
For they, how ever shamefull and un- 

kiiide. 
Yet did possesse their horrible intent; 
Short end of sorrowes they therby did 

finde ; 
So was their fortune good, though wicked 

were their minde. 



' But wicked fortune mine, though 
minde be good. 
Can have no ende nor hope of my desire, 
But feed on shadowes whiles I die for food. 



212 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



And like a shadowe wexe, whiles with 

entire 
Affection I doe languish and expire. 
I, fonder then Cephisns foolish chyld, 
Who, having vewed iu a fouutaiue shere 
His face, was with the love thereof be- 

guyld; 
I, fonder, love a shade, the body far exyld.' 



* Nought like,' (quoth shee) ' for that 

same wretched boy 
Was of him selfe the ydle Paramoure, 
Both love and lover, without hope of joy. 
For which he faded to a watry flowre : 
But better fortune thine, and better 

howre. 
Which lov'st the shadow of a warlike 

knight ; 
No shadow but a body hath in powre : 
That body, wheresoever that it light, 
May learned be by cyphers, or by Magicke 

might. 

XLVI. 

* But if thou may with reason yet re- 

presse 
The growing evill, ere it strength have 

gott. 
And thee abandond wholy do possesse. 
Against it strongly strive, and yield thee 

nott 
Til thou in open fielde adowne be smott: 
But if the passion mayster thy fraile 

might. 
So that needs love or death must bee thy 

lott, 
Then, I avow to thee, by wrong or right 
To compas thy desire, and find that loved 

knight.' 

XLVII. 

Her chearefull words much cheard the 

feeble spright 
Of the sicke virgin, that her downe she 

layd 
In her warme bed to sleepe, if that she 

might ; 
And the old-woman carefully displayd 
The clothes about her round with busy 

ayd; 
So that at last a litle creeping sleepe 
Surprisd her sence : Shee, therewith well 

apayd, 
The dronken lamp down in the oyl did 

steepe, 
And sett her by to watch, and sett her by 

to weepe. 

XLVIII. 

Earely , the morrow next, before that day 
His joyous face did to the world revele, 



They both uprose and tooke their ready 

w?.y 
Unt'; che Church, their praiers to appele 
AVitli great devotion, and with little zele: 
For the faire Damzel from the holy lierse 
Her love-sicke hart to other thoughts did 

steale ; 
And that old Dame said many an idle verse, 
Out of her daughters hart fond fancies to 

reveise. 

XLIX. 

Retourned home, the royall Infant fell 
Into her former fitt ; for-why no powre 
Nor guidaunce of herselfe in her did j 

dwell : 
But th' aged Nourse, her calling to her 

bowre, 
Had gathered Rew, and Savine, and the 

flowre 
Of Camphora, and Calamint, and Dill ; 
All which she in a earthen Pot did poure, 
And to the brim with Coltwood did it fill, 
And many drops of milk and blood 

through it did spill. 



Then, taking thrise three heares from 

off her head. 
Then trebly breaded in a threefold lace. 
And round about the Pots mouth bound 

the thread ; 
And, after having whispered a space 
Certein sad words with hollow voice and 

bace, 
Shee to the virgin sayd, thrise sayd she 

itt; 
' Come daughter, come ; come, spit upon 

my face; 
Spitt thrise upon me, thrise upon me spitt ; 
Th' uneven nomber for this busines is 

most fitt.' 



That sayd, her rownd about she from 

her turnd. 
She turned her contrary to the Sunne ; 
Thrise she her turnd contrary, and returnd 
All contrary ; for she the right did shunne ; 
And ever what she did was straight un- 

donne. 
So thought she to undoe her daughters 

love ; 
But love, that is in gentle brest begonne, 
No ydle charmes so lightly may remove : 
That well can witnesse who by tryall it 

does prove. 

LIT. 

Ne ought it mote the noble Mayd avayle, 
Ne slake the fury of her cruell flame, 
But that shee still did waste, and still did 
wayle, 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



213 



That, through long languour and hart- 

buniing brame, 
She shortly like a pyned ghost became 
Which long hath waited by the Stygian 

strond. 



That when old Glance saw, for feare least 

blame 
Of her miscarriage should in her be fond, 
She wist not how t'amend, nor how it to 

withstond. 



CANTO III. 

Merlin bewraves to Britomart 

The state of Arthegall ; 
And shews the famous Progeny, 

Which from them springen shall. 



Most sacred fyre, that burnest mightily 
In living brests, ykindled first above 
Emongst th' eternall spheres and lamping 

sky, 
And thence pourd into men, which men 

call Love ! 
Not that same, which doth base affections 

move 
In brutish mindes, and filthy lust inflame. 
But that sweete fit that doth true beautie 

love. 
And choseth vertue for his dearest Dame, 
Whence spring all noble deedes and never 

dying fame : 

II. 

Well did Antiquity a God thee deeme, 
That over mortall mindes hast so great 

might, 
To order them as best to thee doth seeme. 
And all their actions to direct aright : 
The fatal 1 purpose of divine foresight 
Thou doest effect hi destined descents, 
Through deepe impression of thy secret 

might, 
And stirredst up th' Heroes high intents. 
Which the late world admyres for won- 
drous moniments. 

III. 
But thy dredd dartes in none doe triumph 

more, 
Ne braver proofe in any of thy powre 
Shewd'st thou, then in this royall Maid 

of yore, 
Making her seeke an unknowne Para- 

moure, 
From the worlds end, through many a 

bitter stowre: 
From whose two loynes thou afterwardes 

did rayse 
Most famous f ruites of matrimoniall bowre, 
Which through the earth have spredd 

their living prayse, 
That fame in tromp of gold eternally 

displayes. 



Begin then, O my dearest sacred Dame! 
Daughter of Phwbus and of Memorye, 
That doest ennoble with immortall name 
The warlike Worthies, from antiquitye. 
In thy great volume of Eternitye : 
Begin, O Clio! and recount from hence 
My glorious So veraines goodly auncestrye. 
Till that by dew degrees, and long pro- 
tense. 
Thou have it lastly brought unto her Excel- 
lence. 

V. 

Full many wayes within her troubled 

mind 
Old Glance cast to cure this Ladies griefe ; 
Full many waies she sought, but none 

could find, 
Nor lierbes, nor cliarmes, nor counsel, that 

is chiefe 
And choicest med'cine for sick harts 

reliefe : 
Forthy great care she tooke, and greater 

feare, 
Least that it should her turne to fowle 

repriefe 
And sore reproch, when so her father deare 
Should of his dearest daughters hard mis- 
fortune heare. 

VI. 

At last she her avisde, that he which 

made 
That mirrhour , wherein the sicke Damosell 
So straungely vewed her straunge lovers 

shade. 
To weet, the learned Merlin, well could 

tell 
Under what coast of heaven the man did 

dwell, 
And by what means his love might best 

be wrought : 
For, though beyond the A f rick Ismael 
Or th' Indian Peru he were, she thought 
Him forth through infinite endevour to 

have sought. 



214 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Forthwith them selves disguising both 

in straunge 
And base atyre, that none might them 

bewray, 
To Maridunum, that is now by chaunge 
Of name Cayr-Merdin cald, they tooke 

their way: 
There the wise Merlin whylome wont 

(they say) 
To make his wonne, low underneath the 

ground, 
In a deepe delve, farre from the vew of 

day, 
That of no living wight he mote be found. 
When so he counseld with his sprights 

eneompast round. 



And, if thou ever happen that same way 
To traveill, go to see that dreadful place. 
It is an hideous hollow cave (they say) 
Under a Rock that lyes a litle space 
From the swift Barry, tombling downe 

apace 
Emongst the woody hilles of Dynevowre : 
But dare thou not, I charge, in any cace 
To enter into that same balefull Bowre, 
For feare the cruell Feendes should thee 

un wares devowre: 



But standing high aloft low lay thine 

eare, 
And there such ghastly noyse of yi'on 

chaines 
And brasen Caudrons thou shalt rombling 

heare. 
Which thousand sprights with long endur- 
ing paines 
Doe tosse, that it will stonn thy feeble 

braines ; 
And oftentimes great grones, and grievous 

stownds, 
When too huge toile and labour them 

constraines. 
And oftentimes loud strokes and ringing 

sowndes 
From under that deepe Rock most horribly 

rebowndes. 



The cause, some say, is this : A litle 

wliyle 
Before that Merlin dyde, he did intend 
A brasen wall in compas to compyle 
About Cairmardin, and did it commend 
Unto these Sprights to bring to perfect 

end: 
During which worke the Lady of the Lake, 



Whom long he lov'd, for him in hast did 
send ; 

Who, thereby forst his workemen to for- 
sake, 

Them bownd till his retourne their labour 
not to slake. 



In the meane time, through that false 

Ladies traine 
He was surprisd, and buried under beare, 
Ne ever to his worke returnd againe : 
Nath'lesse those feends may not their 

work forbeare, 
So greatly his commandemeut they feare, 
But there doe toyle and traveile day and 

night, 
Untill that brasen wall they up doe reare ; 
For Merlin had in Magick more insight 
Then ever him before, or after, living 

wight : 

XII. 

For he by wordes could call out of the 

sky 
Both Sunne and Moone, and make them 

him obay; 
The Land to sea, and sea tomaineland dry. 
And darksom night he eke could turne to 

day: 
Huge hostes of men he could alone dismay, 
And hostes of men of meanest thinges 

could frame, 
When so him list his enimies to fray ; 
That to this day, for terror of his fame, 
The feends do quake when any him to 

them does name. 



And, sooth, men say that he was not 

the Sonne 
Of mortall Syre or other living wight, 
But wondrously begotten, and begonne 
By false illusion of a guilefuU Spright 
On a faire Lady Nonne, that whilome hight 
Matilda, daughter to Pubidius, 
Who was the lord of Mathraval by right, 
And coosen unto king Ambrosius ; 
Whence he indued was with skill so mer- 

veilous. 

XIV. 

They, here arriving, staid awhile with- 
out, 
Ne durst adventure rashly iu to wend. 
But of their first intent gan make new 

dout. 
For dread of daunger which it might por- 
tend ; 
Untill the hardy Mayd (with love to frend) 
First entering, the dreadfull Mage there 
fownd 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



215 



Deepe busied bout worke of wondrous end, 
And writing straunge cliaracters in the 

growud, 
With which the stubborne feendes he to 

his service bownd. 



He nought was moved at their entraunce 

bold, 
For of their comming well he wist afore ; 
Yet list them bid their businesse to unfold, 
As if ought in this world in secrete store 
Were from him hidden, or unknowne of 

yore. 
Then Glauce thus : ' Let not it thee offend, 
That we thus rashly through thy darksom 

dore 
Un wares have prest ; for either fatall end. 
Or other mightie cause, us two did hither 

send.' 



He bad tell on ; And then she thus began. 
' Kow have three Moones with borrowd 

brothers light 
Thrise shined faire, and thrise seemd dim 

and wan, 
Sith a sore evill, -which this virgin bright 
Tormenteth and doth plonge in dolefull 

plight, 
First rooting tooke ; but what thing it 

mote bee, 
Or whence it sprong, I can not read aright : 
But this I read, that, but if remedee 
Thou her afford, full shortly I her dead 

shall see.' 



Therewith th' Enchaunter softly gan to 

smyle 
At her smooth speeches, weeting inly well 
That she to him dissembled womanish 

guyle. 
And to her said : ' Beldame, by that ye tell 
More neede of leach-crafte hath your 

Damozell, 
Then of my skill : who helpe may have 

elsewhere, 
In vaine seekes wonders out of Magick 

spell.' 
Th' old M^oman wox half blanck those 

wordes to heare. 
And yet was loth to let her purpose plaine 

appeare ; 

XVITI. 

And to him said : ' Yf any leaches skill, 
Or other learned meanes, could have 

redrest 
This my deare daughters deepe engraffed 

ill. 
Cartes I should be loth thee to molest ; 



But this sad evill, which doth her infest, 
Doth course of naturall cause farre exceed, 
And housed is within her hollow brest, 
That either seemes some cursed witches 

deed, 
Or evill spright, that in her doth such tor- 
ment breed.' 



The wisard could no lenger beare her 
bord. 

But, brusting forth in laughter, to her 
sayd : 

' Glauce, what needes this colourable word 

To cloke the cause that hath it selfe be- 
wray d ? 

Ne ye, fayre Britomartis, thus arayd, 

More hidden are then Sunne in cloudy vele ; 

Whom thy good fortune, having fate 
obayd, 

Hath hither brought for succour to appele ; 

The which the powres to thee are pleased 
to re vele.' 

XX. 

The doubtfull Mayd, seeing her selfe 

descry de, 
Was all abasht, and her pure yvory 
Into a cleare Carnation suddeine dyde ; 
As fayre Aurora, rysing hastily, 
Doth by her blushing tell that she did lye 
All night in old Tithonus frozen bed. 
Whereof she seemes ashamed inwardly : 
But her olde Nourse was nought dishar- 

tened, 
But vauntage made of that which Merlin 

had ared ; 

XXI. 

And sayd ; ' Sith then thou knowest all 

our grief e, 
(For what doest not thou knowe?) of grace 

I pray, 
Pitty our playnt, and yield us meet re- 

liefe.' 
With that the Prophet still awhile did stay, 
And then his spirite thus gan foorth dis- 
play: 
' Most noble Virgin, that by fatall lore 
Hast learn 'd to love, let no whit thee 

dismay 
The hard beginne that meetes thee in the 

dore, 
And with sharpe fits thy tender hart op- 

presseth sore : 



' For so must all things excellent begin ; 
And eke enrooted deepe m ust be that Tree, 
Whose big embodied braunches shall not 
lin 



2l6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Till they to hevens hight forth stretched 

bee: 
For from thy wombe a famous Progenee 
Shall spring out of the auncient Trojan 

blood, 
AVhich shall revive the sleeping memoree 
Of those same antique Peres, the hevens 

brood, 
Which Greeke and Asian rivers stayned 

with their blood. 

XXIII. 

'Renowmed kings, and sacred Emper- 

ours. 
Thy fruitfull Ofspring, shall from thee 

descend ; 
Brave Captaines, and most mighty war- 

riours. 
That shall their conquests through all 

lands extend. 
And their decayed kingdomes shall 

amend : 
The feeble Britons, broken with long 

warre. 
They shall upreare, and mightily defend 
Against their forren foe that commes from 

farre. 
Till universall peace compound all civill 

Jarre. 

XXIV. 

' It was not, Britomart, thy wandring 

eye 
Glauncing unwares in charmed looking 

glas, 
But the streight course of hevenly destiny, 
Led with eternall providence, that has 
Guyded thy glaunce, to bring his will to 

pas: 
Ne is thy fate, ne is thy fortune ill, 
To love the prowest knight that ever was. 
Therefore submit thy wayes unto his will, 
And doe by all dew meanes thy destiny 

fulfill.' 

XXV. 

' But read,' (saide Glauce) * thou 

Magitian, 
What meanes shall she out seeke, or what 

waies take ? 
How shall she know, how shall she finde 

the man ? 
Or what needes her to toyle, sith fates 

can make 
Way for themselves their purpose to per- 

take ? ' 
Then Merlin thus : ' Indeede the fates are 

firme. 
And may not shrinck, though all the world 

do shake ; 
Yet ought mens good endevours themcon- 

firme, i 



And guyde the heavenly causes to their 
constant terme. 



' The man, whom heavens have ordaynd 

to bee 
The spouse of Britomart, is Arthegall : 
He wouneth in the land of Fayeree, 
Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all 
To Elfes, but sproug of seed terrestriall. 
And whylome by false Faries stolne away, 
Whyles yet in infant cradle he did crall ; 
Ne other to himselfe is knowne this day. 
But that he by an Elfe was gotten of a 

Fay: 

XXVII. 

* But sooth he is the sonne of Gorlo'is, 
And brother unto Cador, Coi-nish king; 
And for his warlike feates renowmed is, 
From where the day out of the sea doth 

spring, 
Untill the closure of the Evening : 
From thence him, firmely bound with 

faithfull band. 
To this his native soyle thou backe shalt 

bring. 
Strongly to ayde his countrey to withstand 
The powre of forreine Paynims which in- 
vade thy land. 



' Great ayd thereto his mighty puis- 

saunce 
And dreaded name shall give in that sad 

day; 
AVhere also proofe of thy prow valiaunce 
Thou then shalt make, t' increase thy 

lover's pray. 
Long time ye both in armes shall beare 

great sway, 
Till thy wombes burden thee from them 

do call. 
And his last fate him from thee take 

away ; 
Too rathe cut off by practise criminall 
Of secrete foes, that him shall make in 

mischiefe fall. 



* With thee yet shall he leave, for 

memory 
Of his late puissaunce, his ymage dead. 
That living him in all activity 
To thee shall represent. lie, from the 

head 
Of his coosen Constantius, without dread 
Shall take the crowne that was his fathers 

right. 
And therewith crowne hims^lfe in th 

others stead : 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



217 



Then shall he issew forth with dreadfull 

might 
Against his Saxon foes in bloody field to 

fight. 

XXX. 

* Like as a Lyon that in drowsie cave 
Hath long time slept, himselfe so shall he 

shake ; 
And comming forth shall spred his banner 

brave 
Over the troubled South, that it shall 

make 
The warlike Mertians for feare to quake : 
Thrise shall he fight with them, and twise 

shall win ; 
But the third time shall fayre accordaunce 

make : 
And, if he then with victorie can lin, 
He shall his dayes with peace bring to his 

earthly In. - 

XXXI. 

'His Sonne, hight Vortipore, shall him 

succeede 
In kingdome, but not in felicity : 
Yet shall he long time warre with happy 

speed, 
And with great honour many batteills try ; 
But at the last to th' importunity 
Of froward fortune shall be forst to yield : 
But his Sonne Malgo sliall full mightily 
Avenge his fathers losse with speare and 

shield. 
And his proud foes discomfit in victorious 

field. 

XXXII. 

' Behold the man ! and tell me, Brito- 
mart, 
If ay more goodly creature thou didst see ? 
How like a Gyaunt in each manly part 
Beares he himselfe with portly majestee, 
That one of th' old Heroes seemes to bee ! 
He the six Islands, comprovinciall 
In auncient times unto great Britainee, 
Shall to the same reduce, and to him call 
Their sondry kings to do their homage 
sever all. 

XXXIII. 

* All which his sonne Careticus awhile 
Shall well defend, and Saxons powre sup- 

presse ; . 
Untill a strauuger king, from uuknowne 

soyle 
Arriving, him with multitude oppresse ; 
Great Gormoud, having with huge mighti- 

nesse 
Ireland subdewd, and therein fixt his 

throne. 
Like a swift Otter, fell through empti- 

nesse. 
Shall overswim the sea, with many one 



Of his Norveyses, to assist the Britons 
fone. 



* He in his furie all shall overronne, 
And holy Church with faithlesse handes 

deface, 
That thy sad people, utterly fordonne, 
Shall to the utmost mountaines fiy apace. 
Was never so great waste in an-y place. 
Nor so fowle outrage doen by living men ; 
For all thy Citties they shall sacke and 

race, 
And the greene grasse that groweth they 

shall bren. 
That even the wilde beast shall dy in 

starved den. 



' Whiles thus thy Britons doe in lan- 
guour pine, 
Proud Etheldred shall from the North 

arise. 
Serving th' ambitious will of Augustine, 
And, passing Dee, with hardy enterprise 
Shall backe repulse the valiaunt Brock- 
well twise. 
And Bangor with massacred Martyrs fill. 
But the third time shall rew his fool- 

hardise ; 
For Cadwan, pittying his peoples ill, 
Shall stoutly him defeat, and thousand 
Saxons kill. 



' But after him , Cadwallin mightily 
On his Sonne Edwin all those wrongs shall 

wreake ; 
Ne shall availe the wicked sorcery 
Of false Pellite his purposes to breake. 
But him shall slay, and on a gallowes 

bleak 
Shall give th' enchaunter his unhappy 

hire. 
Then shall the Britons, late dismayd and 

weake. 
From their long vassalage gin to respire, 
And on their Paynim foes avenge their 

ranckled ire. 

XXXVII. 

' Ne shall he yet his wrath so mitigate, 
Till both the sonnes of Edwin he have 

slayne, 
Offricke and Osricke, twinnes unfortu- 
nate, 
Both slaine in battaile upon Layburne 

playne, 
Together witli the king of Louthiane, 
Hight Adin, and the king of Orkeny, 



2l8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Both joyut partakers of their fatall payne : 
But Penda, fearefull of like desteny, 
Shall yield him selfe his liegeman, and 
sweare fealty. 



' Him shall he make his fatall Instru- 
ment 
T' afflict the other Saxons unsubdewd ; 
He marching forth with fury insolent 
Against the good king Oswald, who in- 

dewd 
With heavenly powre, and by Angels res- 

kewd, 
Al holding crosses in their hands on hye. 
Shall him defeate withouten blood im- 

brewd : 
Of w^iich that field, for endlesse memory. 
Shall Hevenfield be cald to all posterity. 



' Whereat Cadwallin wroth shall forth 

issew, 
And an huge hoste into Northumber lead, 
With which he godly Oswald shall subdew. 
And crowne with martiredome his sacred 

head : 
Whose brother Oswin, daunted with like 

dread. 
With price of silver shall his kingdome 

buy; 
And Penda, seeking him adowne to tread. 
Shall tread adowne, and doe him fowly 

dye; 
But shall with guifts his Lord Cadwallin 

pacify. 

XL. 

' Then shall Cadwallin die ; and then the 
raine 
Of Britons eke with him attonce shall dye ; 
Ne shall the good Cadwallader, with paine 
Or powre, be hable it to remedy, 
When the full time, prefixt by destiny, 
Shal be expird of Britons regiment : 
For heven it selfe shall their successe 

envy. 
And them with plagues and murrins pes- 
tilent 
Consume, till all their warlike puissaunce 
be spent. 

XLI. 

* Yet after all these sorrowes, and huge 

hills 
Of dying people, during eight yeares 

space, 
Cadwallader, not yielding to his ills. 
From Armoricke, where long in wretched 

cace 
Heliv'd, retourning to his native place, 
Shal be by vision staide from his intent : 



For th' heavens have decreed to displace 
The Britons for their sinnes dew punish- 
ment 
And to the Saxons over-give their govern- 
ment. 

XLII. 

* Then woe, and woe, and everlasting 

woe, 
Be to the Briton babe that shal be borne 
To live in thraldome of his fathers foe! 
Late king, now captive; late lord, now 

forlorne ; 
The worlds reproch; the cruell victors 

scorn e ; 
Banisht from princely bowre to wastefull 

wood ! 
O! who shal helpe me to lament and 

mourne 
The royall seed, the antique Trojan blood, 
Whose empire lenger here then ever any 

stood ? ' 

XLIII. 

The Damzell was full deepe empas- 
sioned 
Both for his grief e, and for her peoples 

sake. 
Whose future woes so plaine he fashioned ; 
And, sighing sore, at length him thus 

bespake : 
' Ah ! but will hevens fury never slake. 
Nor vengeaunce huge relent it selfe at 

last? 
Will not long misery late mercy make, 
But shall their name for ever be defaste, 
And quite from off the earth their mem- 
ory be raste ? ' • 



' Nay but the tei-me ' (sayd he) * is 

limited, 
That in this thraldome Britons shall 

abide ; 
And the just revolution measured 
That they as Straungers shal be notifide : 
For twise fowre hundreth yeares shalbe 

supplide, 
Ere they to former rule restor'd shal bee, 
And their importune fates all satisfide : 
Yet, during this their most obscuritee, 
Their beames shall of te breake forth, that 

men them faire may see. 

XLV, 

' For Rhodoricke, whose surname shal 

be Great, 
Shall of him selfe a brave ensample shew, 
That Saxon kinges his friendship shall 

in treat; 
And Howell Dha shall goodly well in- 

dew 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



The salvage minds with skill of just and 

trew : 
Then Griffyth Conan also shall upreare 
His dreaded head, and the old sparkes re- 
new 
Of native corage, that his foes shall feare, 
Least back againe the kingdom he from 
them should beare. 

XL VI. 

' Ne shall the Saxons selves all peaceably 
Enjoy the crowne, which they from 

Britons wonne 
First ill, and after ruled wickedly ; 
For, ere two hundred yeares be full out- 

ronne, 
There shall a Raven, far from rising 

Sunne, 
With his wide wings upon them fiercely 

fly, 

And bid his faithlesse chickens overronne 
The fruitfull plaines, and with fell cruelty 
In their avenge tread downe the victors 
surquedry. 

XLVII. 

* Yet shall a third both these and thine 

subdew. 
There shall a Lion from the sea-bord wood 
Of Neustria come roring, with a crew 
Of hungry whelpes, his battailous bold 

brood, 
Whose clawes were newly dipt in cruddy 

blood. 
That from the Daniske Tyrants head shall 

rend 
Th' usurped crowne, as if that he were 

wood , 
And the spoile of the countrey conquered 
Emongst his young ones shall divide with 

bountyhed. 

XLVIII. 

* Tho, when the terme is full accom- 

pli shid, 
There shall a sparke of fire, which hath 

longwhile 
Bene in his ashes raked up and hid, 
Boe freshly kindled in the fruitfull He 
Of Mona, where it lurked in exile ; 
Which shall breake forth into bright burn- 
ing flame. 
And reach into the house that beares the 

stile 
Of roiall majesty and soveraine name : 
So shall the Briton blood their crowne 
agayn reclame. 

XLIX. 

* Thenceforth eternall union shall be 

made 



Betweene the nations different afore, 
And sacred Peace shall lovingly persuade 
The warlike minds to learue her goodly 

lore. 
And civile armes to exercise no more : 
Then shall a royall Virgin raine, which 

shall 
Stretch her white rod over the Belgicke 

shore, 
And the great Castle smite so sore with- 

all, 
That it shall make him shake, and shortly 

learn to fall. 



' But yet the end is not.' — There Merlin 

stayd, 
As overcomen of the spirites powre. 
Or other ghastly spectacle dismayd. 
That secretly he saw, yet note discoure : 
Which suddein fitt, and halfe extatick 

stoure, 
When the two fearefull wemen saw, they 

grew 
Greatly confused in behaveoure. 
At last, the fury past, to former hew 
Hee turnd againe, and chearfull looks as 

earst did shew. 



Then, when them selves they well in- 
structed had 
Of all that needed them to be inquird. 
They both, conceiving hope of comfort 

glad. 
With lighter hearts unto their home re- 

tird; 
Where they in secret counsell close con- 

spird, 
How to effect so hard an enterprize. 
And to possesse the purpose they desird : 
Now this, now that, twixt them they did 

devize. 
And diverse plots did frame to maske in 
strange disguise. 



At last the Nourse in her foolhardy wit 

Conceiv'd a bold devise, and thus be- 
spake : 

' Daughter, I deeme that counsel aye 
most fit, 

That of the time doth dew advauntage 
take. 

Ye see that good king Uther now doth 
make 

Strong warre upon the Paynim brethren, 
hight 

Octa and Oza, whome hee lately brake 

Beside Cayr Verolame in victorious fight, 



220 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



That now all Britany doth burne in armes 
bright. 

Lni. 

* That, therefore, nought our passage 

may empeach, 

Let us in feigned armes our selves dis- 
guize, 

And our weake hands (need makes good 
schollers) teach 

The dreadful speare and shield to exer- 
cize : 

Ne certes, daughter, that same warlike 
wize, 

I weene, would you misseeme; for ye 
beene tall. 

And large of limbe t' atchieve an hard 
emprize ; 

Ne ought ye want but skil, which practize 
small 

Wil bring, and shortly make you a mayd 
Martiall. 

LIV. 

* ^nd, sooth, it ought your corage much 

inflame 
To heare so often, in that royall hous, 
From whence, to none inferior, ye came. 
Bards tell of many wemen valorous. 
Which have full many feats adventurous 
Performd, in paragone of proudest men: 
The bold Bunduca, whose victorious 
Exployts made Rome to quake; stout 

Guendolen ; 
Renowmed Martia; and redoubted Em- 

milen. 

LV. 

' And, that which more then all the rest 

may sway. 
Late dayes ensample, which these eyes 

beheld : 
In the last field before Menevia, 
Which Uther with those forrein Pagans 

held, 
I saw a Saxon Virgin, the which feld 
Great Ulfin thrise upon the bloody playne ; 
And, had not Carados her hand withheld 
From rash revenge, she had him surelj' 

slayne : 
Yet Carados himselfe from her escapt with 

payne.' 

LVI. 

'Ah! read,' (quoth Britomart) * how is 

she hight ? ' 
' Fayre Angela ' (quoth she) ' men do her 

call. 
No whit lesse fayre then terrible in figlit : 
She hath the leading of a Martiall 
And mightie people, dreaded more then 

all 
The other Saxons, which doe, for her 

sake 



And love, themselves of her name Angles 

call. 
Therefore, faire Infant, her ensample 

make 
Unto thy selfe, and equall corage to thee 

take.' 

LVII. 

Her harty wordes so deepe into the 

mynd 
Of the yong Damzell sunke, that great 

desire 
Of warlike armes in her forthwith they 

tynd, 
And generous stout courage did iuspyre. 
That she resolv'd, unweeting to her Syre, 
Advent'rous knighthood on her selfe to 

don; 
And counseld with her Nourse her Maides 

at tyre 
To turue into a massy habergeon, 
And bad her all things put in readinesse 

anon. 

Lvm. 
Th' old woman nought that needed did 

omit, 
But all thinges did conveniently purvay. 
It fortuned (so time their turne did fitt) 
A band of Britons, ryding on forray 
Few dayes before, had gotten a great pray 
Of Saxon goods ; emongst the which was 

scene 
A goodly Armour, and full rich aray. 
Which long'd to Angela, the Saxon 

Queene, 
All fretted round with gold, and goodly 

wel beseene. 



The same, with all the other ornaments, 
King Ryence caused to be hanged hy 
In his chiefe Church, for endlesse moni- 

ments 
Of his successe and gladfull victory : 
Of which her selfe avising readily. 
In th' evening late old Glance thither led 
Faire Britomart, and, that same Armory 
Downe taking, her therein appareled 
Well as she might, and with brave baul- 

drick garnished. 

LX. 

Beside those armes there stood a mightie 

speare, 
Wliich Bladud made by Magick art of 

yore. 
And usd the same in batteill aye to 

beare ; 
Sith which it had beene here preserv'd 

in store. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



221 



For his great virtues proved long afore : 
For never wight so fast in sell could sit, 
But him perforce unto the ground it bore. 
Both speare she tooke and shield which 

hong by it ; 
Both speare and shield of great powre, 

for her purpose fit. 



Thus when she had the virgin allarayd, 
Another harnesse which did hang thereby 
About her selfe she dight, that the yong 

Mayd 
She might in equall amies accompany, 
And as her Squyre attend her carefully. 
Tho to their ready Steedes they clombe 

full light. 
And through back waies, that none might 

them espy, 



Covered with secret cloud of silent night, 
Themselves they forth couvaid, and passed 
forward right. 



Ne rested they, till that to Faery lond 
They came, as Merlin them directed 

late : 
Where, meeting with this Redcrosse 

Knight, she fond 
Of diverse thinges discourses to dilate. 
But most of Arthegall and his estate. 
At last their wayes so fell, that they mote 

part : 
Then each to other, well affectionate, 
Friendship professed with unfained 

hart. 
The Redcrosse Knight diverst, but forth 

rode Britomart. 



CANTO IV. 

Bold Marinell of Britomart 

Is throwne on the Eich strond 

Faire Florimell of Arthure is 
Long followed, but not fond. 



Where is the Antique glory now be- 
come, 

That whylome wont in wemen to appeare ? 

Where be the brave atchievements doen 
by some ? 

Where be the batteilles, wdiere the shield 
and speare. 

And all the conquests which them high 
did reare, 

That matter made for famous Poets verse, 

And boastfull men so oft abasht to heare ? 

Beene they all dead, and laide in dolefull 
herse. 

Or doen they onely sleepe, and shall 
againe reverse? 

II. 

If they be dead, then woe is me there- 
fore ; 
But if they sleepe, O let them soone 

awake ! 
For all too long I burne with envy sore 
To heare the warlike feates which Homere 

spake 
Of bold Penthesilee, which made a lake 
Of Greekish blood so ofte in Trojan 

plain e ; 
But when I reade,how stout Debora strake 
Proud Sisera, and how Camill' hath slaine 
The huge Orsilochus, I swell with great 
disdains. 



Yet these, and all that els had puis- 
saunce, 
Cannot with noble Britomart compare, 
As well for glorie of great valiaunce. 
As for pure chastitee and vertue rare. 
That all her goodly deedes doe well de- 
clare. 
Well worthie stock, from which the 

branches sprong 
That in late yeares so faire a blossome 

bare, 
As thee, O Queene ! the matter of my song, 
Whose lignage from this Lady I derive 
along. 

IV. 

Who when, through speaches with the 

Redcrosse Knight, 
She learned had tli' estate of Arthegall, 
And in each point her selfe informd 

aright, 
A friendly league of love perpetuall 
She with him bound, and Conge tooke 

withall : 
Then he forth on his journey did pro- 

ceede, 
To seeke adventures which mote him 

befall. 
And win him worship through his warlike 

deed, 
Which alwaies of his paines he made the 

chief est meed. 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



But Britomart kept on her former 
course, 
Ne ever dofte her arraes, but all the way 
Grew pensive through that amarous dis- 
course, 
By which the Redcrosse knight did earst 

display 
Her lovers shape and chevalrous aray : 
A thousand thoughts she fashiond in her 

mind, 
And in her feigning fancie did pourtray 
Him such as fittest she for love could 

find, 
Wise, warlike, personable, courteous, and 
kind. 

VI. 

With such selfe-pleasing thoughts her 

wound she f edd , 
And thought so to beguile her grievous 

smart ; 
But so her smart was much more grievous 

bredd. 
And the deepe wound more deep engord 

her hart, 
That nought but death her dolour mote 

depart. 
So forth she rode, without repose or rest. 
Searching all lands and each remotest 

part, 
Following the guydance of her blinded 

guest, 
Till that to the sea-coast at length she her 

addrest. 

VII. 

There she alighted from her light-foot 

beast. 
And sitting downe upon the rocky shore, 
Badd her old Squyre unlace her lofty 

creast : 
Tho having vewd awhile the surges hore 
That gainst the craggy clifts did loudly 

rore. 
And in their raging surquedry disdaynd 
That the fast earth affronted them so 

sore. 
And their devouring covetize restraynd ; 
Thereat she sighed deepe, and after thus 

complaynd. 

VIII. 

* Huge sea of sorrow and tempestuous 

griefe, 
Wherein my feeble barke is tossed long 
Far from the hoped haven of reliefe. 
Why doe thy cruel billowes beat so strong. 
And thy moyst mountaiues each on others 

throng, 
Threatning to swallow up my fearefuU 

lyfe? 



O! doe thy cruell wrath and spightfuU 

wrong 
At length allay, and stint thy stormy 

strife, 
Which in thy troubled bowels raignes and 

rageth ryfe. 

IX. 

'For els my feeble vessell, crazd and 

crackt 
Through thy strong buffets and outra- 
geous blowes, 
Cannot endure, but needes it must be 

wrackt 
On the rough rocks, or on the sandy shal- 

lowes, 
The Avhiles that love it steres, and fortune 

rowes: 
Love, my lewd Pilott, hath a restlesse 

minde ; 
And fortune, Boteswaine, no assurance 

knowes ; 
But saile withouten starres gainst tyde 

and wynde : 
How can they other doe, sith both are 

bold and blinde? 



'Thou God of windes, that raignest in 

the seas, 
That raignest also in the Continent, 
At last blow up some gentle gale of ease, 
The which may bring my ship, ere it be s 

rent, 
Unto the gladsome port of her intent. 
Then, when I shall my selfe in safety see, 
A table, for eternall moniment 
Of thy great grace and my great jeopardee, 
Great Neptune, I avow to hallow unto 

thee ! ' 

XI, 

Then sighing softly sore, and inly deepe, 
She shut up all her plaint in privy griefe 
For her great courage would not let her 

weepe, 
Till that old Glance gan with sharpe re- 

priefe 
Her to restraine, and give her good reliefe 
Through hope of those, which Merlin had 

her told 
Should of her name and nation be chiefe. 
And fetch their being from the sacred 

mould 
Of her immortall womb, to be in heaven 

enrold. 

XII. 

Thus as she her recomforted, she sp\de 
Where far away one, all in armour bright. 
With hasty gallop towards her did ryde. 
Her dolour soone she ceast, and on her 
dight 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



223 



Her Helmet, to her Courser mounting 

light: 
Her former sorrow into suddein wrath, 
Both coosen passions of distroubled 

spright, 
Converting, forth she beates the dusty 

path : 
Love and despight attonce her courage 

kindled hath. 



As, when a foggy mist hath overcast 
The face of heven, and the cleare ay re 

eugroste, 
The world in darkenes dwels ; till that at 

last 
The watry Southwinde, from the seabord 

coste 
Upblowing, doth disperse the vapour 

lo'ste, 
And poures it selfe forth in a stormy 

showre : 
So the fayre Britomart, having disclo'ste 
Her clowdy care into a wrathfull stowre. 
The mist of griefe dissolv'd did into 

vengeance jowre. 



Eftsoones, her goodly shield addressing 

fayre, 
That mortall speare she in her hand did 

take, 
And unto battaill did her selfe prepay re. 
The knight, approching, sternely her be- 
spake : 
' Sir knight, that doest thy voyage rashly 

make 
By this forbidden way in my despight, 
Ne doest by others death ensample 

take, 
I read thee scone retyre, whiles thou hast 

might, 
Least afterwards it be too late to take 

thy flight.' 

XV. 

Ythrild with deepe disdaine of his 
proud threat. 
She shortly thus : ' Fly they, that need to 

fly; 

Wordes fearen babes. I meane not thee 

entreat 
To passe, but maugre thee will passe 

or dy.' 
Ne lenger stayd for th' other to reply, 
But with sharpe speare the rest made 

dearly knowne. 
S:rongly the straunge knight ran, and 

sturdily 
Strooke her full on the brest, that made 

her downe 



Decline her head, and touch her crouper 
with her crown. 



But she againe him in the shield did 

smite 
With so lierce f urie and great puissaunce, 
That, through his three-square scuchin 

percing quite 
And through his mayled hauberque, by 

mischaunce 
The wicked Steele through his left side 

did glauuce. 
Him so transfixed she before her bore 
Beyond his croupe, the length of all her 

launce ; 
Till, sadly soucing on the sandy shore, 
He tombled on an heape, and wallowd in 

his gore. 

XVII. 

Like as the sacred Oxe that carelesse 

stands, 
With gilden homes and flowry girlonds 

crownd, 
Proud of his dying honor and deare 

bandes, 
Whiles th' altars fume with frankincense 

arownd, 
All suddeinly, with mortall stroke as- 

townd, 
Doth groveling fall, and with his stream- 
ing gore 
Distaines the pillours and the holy grownd, 
And the faire flowres that decked him 

afore : 
So fell proud Marinell upon the pretious 

shore. 

XVIII. 

The martiall Mayd staj'-d not him to 

lament, 
But forward rode, and kept her ready 

way 
Along the strond; which, as she over- 
went. 
She saw bestrowed all with rich aray 
Of pearles and pretious stones of great 

assay. 
And all the gravell mixt with golden 

owre : 
Whereat she wondred much, but would 

not stay 
For gold, or perles, or pretious stones, an 

howre, 
But them despised all ; for all was in her 

powre. 

XIX. 

Whiles thus he lay in deadly stonish- 
ment, 
Tydings hereof came to his mothers eare : 



224 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



His mother was the blacke-browd Cy- 

moeut, 
The daughter of great Nereus, which did 

beare 
This warlike soime uuto au earthly peare, 
The famous Dumarin; who, on a day 
Finding the Nymph asleepe in secret 

wheare, 
As he by chauuee did wander that same 

way, 
Was taken with her love, and by her 

closely lay. 

XX. 

There he this knight of her begot, whom 

borne 
She, of his father, Marinell did name ; 
And in a rocky cave, as wight forlorne, 
Lono- time she fostred up, till he became 
A mighty man at amies, and mickle fame 
Did get through great adventures by him 

donue : 
For never man he suffred by that same 
Rich strond to travell, whereas he did 

wonne, 
But that he must do battail with the Sea- 

nymphes soune. 



An hundred knights of honorable name 

He had subdew'd, and them his vassals 
made 

That through all Faerie lond his noble 
fame 

Now blazed was, and feare did all in- 
vade, 

That none durst passen through that peri- 
lous glade : 

And to advauuce his name and glory 
more, 

Her Sea-god syre she dearely did per- 
swade 

T' endow her sonne with threasure and 
rich store 

Bove all the sonnes that were of earthly 
wombes ybore. 



The God did graunt his daughters deare 
demaund, 

To doen his Nephew in all riches flow ; 

Eftsoones his heaped waves he did com- 
mauud 

Out of their hollow bosome forth to 
throw 

All the huge threasure, which the sea be- 
low 

Had in his greedy gulfe devoured deepe, 

And liim enriched through the overthrow 

And wreckes of many wretches, which 
did weepe 



And often wayle their wealth, which he 
from them did keepe. 



Shortly upon that shore there heaped 

was 
Exceeding riches and all pretious things. 
The spoyle of all the world ; that it did 

pas 
The wealth of th' East, and pompe of 

Persian kings : 
Gold, amber, yvorie, perles, owches, rings. 
And all that els was pretious and deare. 
The sea unto him voluntary brings ; 
That shortly he a great Lord did appeare, 
And was in all the lond of Faery, or else 

wheare. 

XXIV. 

Thereto he was a doughty dreaded 

knight, 
Tryde often to the scath of many Deare, 
That none in equall armes him matchen 

might : 
The which his mother seeing gan to feare 
Least his too haughtie hardines might 

reare 
Some hard mishap in hazard of his life. , 

Forthy she oft him counseld to forbeare j 

The bloody batteill and to stirre up 

strife, 
But after all his warre to rest his wearie 

knife. 

XXV. 

And, for his more assuraunce, she in- 

quir'd 
One day of Proteus by his mighty spell 
(For Proteus was with prophecy inspir'd) 
Her deare sonnes destiny to her to tell. 
And the sad end of her sweet Marinell: 
Who, through foresight of his eternall 

skill. 
Bad her from womankind to keepe him 

well. 
For of a woman he should have much ill ; 
A virgin straunge and stout him should 

dismay or kill. 



Forthy she gave him warning every 

day 
The love of women not to entertaine : 
A lesson too too hard for living clay 
From love in course of nature to refraine. 
Yet he his mothers lore did well retaine. 
And ever from fayre Ladies love did fly ; 
Yet many I^adies fayre did oft complaine. 
That they for love of him would algat-es 

dy: 
Dy, who so list for him, he was loves 

euimy. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



225 



XXVII. 

But ah! who can deceive his destiuy, 
Or weene by warning to avoyd his fate ? 
That, when he sleepes in most security 
And safest seemes, him soonest doth 

amate, 
And findeth dew effect or soone or late ; 
So feeble is the powre of tieshly arme. 
His mother bad him wemens love to hate, 
For she of womaus force did feare no 

harme ; 
So, weening to have arni'd him, she did 

quite disarme. 



This was that woman, this that deadly 
wownd, 

That Proteus prophecide should him dis- 
may ; 

The which his mother vainely did ex- 
povnid 

To be hart-wownding love, which should 
assay 

To bring her sonne unto his last decay. 

So tide be the term 3s of mortall state. 

And full of subtile sophismes, which doe 
play 

With double sences, and with false de- 
bate, 

T' approve the unknowen purpose of eter- 
nall fate. 

XXIX. 

Too trew the famous Marinell it fownd, 
Who, through late triall, on that wealthy 

Strond 
Inglorious now lies in sencelesse swownd, 
Through heavy stroke of Britomartis 

bond. 
Which when his mother deare did under- 

stond. 
And heavy tidings heard, whereas she 

playd 
Amongst her watry sisters by a pond, 
Gathering sweete daffadillyes, to have 

made 
Gay girlonds from the Sun their forheads 

fayr to shade ; 

XXX. 

Eftesoones both flowres and girlonds 
far away 

Shee flong, and her faire deawy lockes 
yrent ; 

To sorrow huge she turnd her former 

^ , play, 

And gamesom merth to grievous dreri- 
ment: 

Shee threw her selfe downe on the Conti- 
nent, 



Ne word did speake, but lay as in a 

swowue, 
Whiles all her sisters did for her lament 
With yelling outcries, and with shrieking 

sowne ; 
And every one did teare her girlond from 

her crowne. 



Soone as shee up out of her deadly fitt 
Arose, shee bad her charett to be brought ; 
And all her sisters that with her did sitt 
Bad eke attonce their charetts to be 

sought : 
Tho, full of bitter griefe and pensife 

thought, 
She to her wagon clombe ; clombe all the 

rest, 
And forth together went with sorow 

fraught. 
The waves, obedient to theyr beheast. 
Them yielded ready passage, and their 

rage su recast. 



Great Neptune stoode amazed at their 
sight. 
Whiles on his broad rownd backe they 

softly slid. 
And eke him selfe mournd at their mourn- 
ful plight, 
Yet wist not what their wailing ment ; 

yet did, 
For great compassion of their sorow, 

bid 
His mighty waters to them buxome bee: 
Eftesoones the roaring billowes still abid. 
And all the griesly Monsters of the See 
Stood gaping at their gate, and wondred 
them to see. 



A teme of Dolphins raunged in aray 
Drew the smooth charett of sad Cymoent: 
They were all taught by Triton to obay 
To the long raynes at her commaunde- 

ment : 
As swifte as swallowes on the waves they 

went, 
That their brode flaggy finnes no fome 

did rfeare, 
Ne bubling rowndell they behinde them 

sent. 
The rest, of other fishes drawen weare, 
Which with their finny oars the swelling 

sea did sheare. 

XXXIV. 

Soone as they bene arriv'd upon the 
brim 



226 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Of the Rich Strond, their charets they 

forlore, 
And let their temed fishes softly swim 
Along the margent of the fomy shore, 
Least they their finnes should bruze, and 

surbate sore 
Their tender feete upon the stony grownd : 
And comming to the place, where all in 

gore 
And cruddy blood enwallowed they fownd 
The lucklesse Marinell lying in deadly 

swownd, 

XXXV. 

His mother swowned thrise, and the 

third time 
Could scarce recovered bee out of her 

paine : 
Had she not beene devoide of mortall 

slime, 
Shee should not then have bene relyv'd 

againe ; 
But, soone as life recovered had the raine, 
Shee made so piteous mone and deare 

way men t. 
That the hard rocks could scarse from 

tears ref raine ; 
And all her sister Nymphes with one con- 
sent 
Supplide her sobbing breaches with sad 

complement. 

XXXVI. 

* D^are image of my selfe, (she sayd) 

' that is 
The wretched sonne of wretched mother 

borne. 
Is this thine high advauncement? O! is 

this 
Th' immortall name, with which thee, yet 

unborne, 
Thy Grandsire Nereus promist to adorne? 
Now lyest thou of life and honor refte ; 
Now lyest thou a lumpe of earth forlorue ; 
Ne of thy late life memory is lefte, 
Ne can thy irrevocable desteny bee wefte. 

XXXVII. 

' Fond Proteus, father of false prophecis ! 
And they more fond that credit to thee 

give! 
Not this theworke of womans hand ywis, 
Tiiat so deepe wound througli these deare 

meml)ers drive. 
I feared love ; but they that love doe live, 
But they that dye doe nether love nor 

hate : 
Nath'lesse to thee thy folly I forgive; 
And to my selfe, and to accursed fate, 
The guilt I doe ascribe : deare wisedom 

bought too late ! 



XXXVIII. 

' O! what availes it of immortall seed 
To beene ybredd and never borne to dye ? 
Farre better I it deeme to die with speed 
Then waste in woe and waylfull miserye : 
Who dyes, the utmost dolor doth abye ; 
But who that lives is lefte to waile his 



So life is losse, and death felicity: 

Sad life worse then glad death ; and 

greater crosse 
To see f rends grave, then dead the grave 

self to engrosse. 



' But if the heavens did his dayes envie, 
And my short blis maligne, yet mote they 

well 
Thus much afford me, ere that he did die. 
That the dim eies of my deare Marinell 
I mote have closed, and him bed farewell, 
Sith other offices for mother meet 

They would not graunt 

Yett, maulgre them, farewell, my sweetest 

sweet! 
Farewell, my sweetest sonne, sith we no 

more shall meet ! ' 



Thus when they all had sorowed their 

fill, 
They softly gan to search his griesly 

wownd : 
And, that they might him handle more at 

will. 
They him disarmd; and, spredding on 

the grownd 
Their watchet mantles f rindgd with silver 

rownd, 
They softly wipt away the gelly blood 
From th' orifice ; which having well up- 

bownd, 
They pourd in soveraine balme and Nectar 

good, 
Good both for erthly med'cine and for 

hevenly food. 



Tho when the lilly handed Liagore 
(This Liagore whilome had learned skill 
In leaches craft, by great Apolloes lore, 
Sith her whilome upon high Pindus hill 
He loved, and at last her wombe did fill 
With hevenly seed, whereof wise Pneon 

sprongj 
Did feele his pulse, shee knew there staled 

still 
Some litle life his feeble sprites emong: 
Which to his mother told, despeyre she 

from her flong, 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



227 



Tho, up him taking in their tender 

hands, 
They easely unto her charett beare : 
Her teme at her commaundemeut quiet 

stands, 
Whiles they the corse into her wagon 

reare, 
And strowe with llowres the lamentable 

beare. 
Then all the rest into their coches dim, 
And through the brackish waves their 

passage sheare ; 
Upon great Neptunes necke they softly 

swim. 
And to her watry chamber swiftly carry 

him. 

XLIII, 

Deepe in the bottome of the sea her 

bowre 
Is built of hollow billowes heaped bye, 
Like to thicke clouds that threat a stormy 

showre. 
And vauted all within, like to the Skye, 
In which the Gods doe dwell eternally ; 
There they him laide hi easy couch well 

dight, 
And sent in haste for Tryphon, to apply 
Salves to his wounds, and medicines of 

might ; 
For Tryphon of sea gods the soveraine 

leach is hight. 



The whiles the Nymphes sitt all about 
him rownd, 

Lamenting his mishap and heavy plight ; 

And ofte his mother, vewing his wide 
wownd, 

Cursed the hand that did so deadly smight 

Her dearest Sonne, her dearest harts de- 
light : 

But none of all those curses overtooke 

The warlike Maide, th' ensample of that 
might ; 

But fairely well shee thryvd, and well did 
brooke 

Her noble deeds, ne her right course for 
ought forsooke. 



Yet did false Archimage her still pursew, 
To bring to passe his mischievous intent, ' 
Now that he had her singled from the crew 
Of courteous knights, the Prince and Faery 

gent, 
Whom late in chace of beauty excellent 
Shee lefte, pursewing that same foster 

strong. 
Of whose fowle outrage they impatient, 



And full of firy zele, him followed long. 
To reskew her from shame, and to revenge 
her wrong. 



Through thick and thin, through moun- 
tains and through playns, 

Those two great champions did attouce 
pursew 

The fearefull damzell with incessant 
payns : 

Who from them fled, as light-foot hare 
from vew 

Of hunter swifte and sent of howndes 
trew. 

At last they came unto a double way ; 

Where, doubtfull which to take, her to 
reskew, 

Themselves they did dispart, each to assay 

Whether more happy were to win so 
goodly pray. 



But Timias, the Princes gentle Squyre, 
That Ladies love unto his Lord forlent. 
And with proud envy and indignant yre 
After that wicked foster fiercely went : 
So beene they three three sondry wayes 

ybent ; 
But fayrest fortune to the Prince befell. 
Whose chaunce it was, that soone he did 

repent, 
To take that way in which that Damozell 
Was fledd afore, affraid of him as feend 

of hell. 

XLVIII. 

At last of her far off he gained vew. 
Then gan he freshly pricke his fomy steed, 
And ever as he nig'her to her drew. 
So evermore he did mcrease bis speed, 
And of each turning still kejit wary heed : 
Alowd to her he oftentimes did call, 
To doe away vaine doubt and needlesse 

dreed : 
Full myld to her he spake, and oft let fall 
IVIany meeke wordes to stay and comfort 

her withall. 



But nothing might relent her hasty 

flight, 
So deepe the deadly feare of that foule 

swaine 
Was earst impressed in her gentle spright. 
Like as a fearefull Dove, which through 

the raine 
Of the wide ayre her way does cut amaine, 
Having farre off espyde a Tassell gent, 
Which after her his nimble winges doth 

straine. 



228 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book in. 



Doubleth her hast for feare to bee for- 
heut, 

And with her pineons cleaves the liquid fir- 
mament. 

L. 

"With no lesse hast, and eke with no 

lesse dreed, 
That fearefull Ladie fledd from him, that 

ment 
To her no evill thought nor evill deed ; 
Yet former feare of being fowly slient 
Carried her forward with her first intent : 
And though, oft looking backward, well 

she vewde 
Her selfe freed from that foster insolent. 
And that it was a knight which now her 

sewde, 
Yet she no lesse the knight feard then 

that villein rude. 

LI. 

His uncouth shield and straunge armes 

her dismayd. 
Who like in Faery lond were seldom 

scene, 
That fast she from him fledd, no lesse 

afrayd 
Then of wilde beastes if she had chased 

beene; 
Yet he her followd still with corage keene 
So long, that now the golden Hesperus 
Was mounted high in top of heaven sheene, 
And warnd his other brethren joyeous 
To light their blessed lamps in Joves 

eternall hous. 



All suddeinly dim wox the dampish 

ay re, 
And griesly shadowes covered heaven 

bright. 
That now with thousand starres was 

decked fayre : 
Which when the Prince beheld, a lothfull 

sight. 
And that perforce, for want of lenger 

light. 
He mote surceasse his suit, and lose the 

hope 
Of his long labour, he gan fowly wyte 
His wicked fortune that had turnd 

aslope. 
And cursed night that reft from him so 

goodly scope. 



Tho, when her wayes he could no more 
descry, 
But to and fro at disaventure strayd ; 
Like as a ship, whose Lodestar suddeinly 



Covered with cloudes her Pilott hath dis- 
mayd ; 

His wearisome pursuit perforce he stayd, 

And from his loftie steed dismounting 
low 

Did let him forage. Downe himself e he 
layd 

Upon the grassy ground to sleepe a 
throw : 

The cold earth was his couch, the hard 
Steele his pillow. 



But gentle Sleepe envyde him any rest : 
In stead thereof sad sorow and disdaine 
Of his hard hap did vexe his noble brest, 
And thousand Fancies bett his ydle brayne 
With their light wings, the sights of sem- 

blants vaine. 
Oft did he wish that Lady faire mote bee 
His Faery Queene, for whom he did com- 

plaine. 
Or that his Faery Queene were such as 

slice ; 
And ever hasty Night he blamed bitterlie. 



' Night ! thou foule Mother of annoy- 

aunce sad, 
Sister of lieavie death, and nourse of woe. 
Which w^ast begot in heaven, but for thy 

bad 
And brutish shape thrust downe to hell 

below. 
Where, by the grim floud of Cocytus 

slow. 
Thy dwelling is in Herebus black hous, 
(Black Herebus, thy husband, is the foe 
Of all the Gods,) where thou ungratious 
Halfe of thy dayes doest lead in horrour 

hideous. 

LVI. 

' What had th' eternall Maker need of 

thee 
The world in his continuall course to 

keepe, 
That doest all thinges deface, ne lettest 

see 
The beautie of his worke? Indeed, in 

sleepe 
The slouthfuU body that doth love to 

steepe 
His lustlesse limbes, and drowiie his baser 

mind. 
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian 

deepe 
Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour 

blind. 
And great Dame Natures haudmaide 

chearing every kind. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



229 



' But well I wote, that to an heavy hart 
Thou art the roote and nourse of bitter 

cares, 
Breeder of new, renewer of old smarts : 
Instead of rest thou lendest rayling 

teares ; 
Instead of sleepe thou sendest troublous 

feares 
And dreadful! visions, in the which alive 
The dreary image of sad death appeares : 
So from the wearie spirit thou doest drive 
Desired rest, and men of happinesse de- 
prive. 

LVIII. 

' Under thy mantle black there hidden 
lye 
Light-shonning thefte, and traiterous in- 
tent, 
Abhorred bloodshed, and vile felony, 
Shamefull deceipt, and daunger imminent, 
Fowle horror, and eke hellish dreriment: 
All these, I wote, in thy protection bee. 
And light doe shonne for feare of being 

shent ; 
For light ylike is loth'd of them and thee ; 
And all that lewduesse love doe hate the 
light to see. 



' For day discovers all dishonest wayes. 
And sheweth each thing as it is in deed : 
The prayses of high God he faire dis- 
play es, 
And his large bountie rightly doth areed : 
Dayes dearest children be the blessed seed 
Which darknesse shall subdue and heaven 
win: 



Truth is his daughter; he her first did 

breed 
Most sacred virgin without spot of sinne. 
Our life is day, but death with darknesse 

doth begin. 

LX. 

' O ! when will day then turne to me 

agaiue, 
And bring with him his long expected 

light? 
O Titan ! hast to reare thy joyous waine ; 
Speed thee to spred abroad thy beanies 

bright. 
And chace away this too long lingring 

night ; 
Chace her away, from whence she came, 

to hell : 
She. she it is, that hath me done despight ; 
There let her with the damned spirits 

dwell. 
And yield her rowme to-day that can it 

governe well.' 



Thus did the Prince that wearie night 

outweare 
In restlesse anguish and unquiet paine ; 
And earely, ere the morrow did upreare 
His deawy head out of the Ocean maine. 
He up arose, as halfe in great disdaine. 
And clombe unto his steed. So forth he 

went 
With heavy look and lumpish pace, that 

plaine 
In him bewraid great grudge and mal- 

talent : 
His steed eke seemd t' apply his steps to 

his intent. 



CANTO V. 

Prince Arthur heares of Florimell; 

Three fosters Tiinias wound ; 
Belphebe findes him ahnost dead, 

And reareth out of sownd. 



Wonder it is to see in diverse mindes 
How diversly love doth his pageaunts 

play, 
And shewes his powre in variable kindes : 
The baser wit, whose ydle thoughts alway 
Are wont to cleave unto the lowly clay. 
It stirreth up to sensuall desire, 
And in lewd slouth to wast his carelesse 

day; 
But in brave sprite it kindles goodly fire, 
That to all high desert and honour doth 

aspire. 



Ne suffereth it uncomely idlenesse 
In his free thought to build her sluggish 

nest, 
Ne suffereth it thought of ungentlenesse 
Ever to creepe into his noble brest; 
But to the highest and the worthiest 
Lifteth it up that els would lowly fall : 
It lettes not fall, it lettes it not to rest ; 
It lettes not scarse this Prince to breath 

at all. 
But to his first poursuit him forward still 

doth call. 



230 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Who long time wandred through the 

forest wyde 
To finde some issue theuce ; till that at 

last 
He met a Dwarfe that seemed terrifyde 
With some late perill which he hardly 

past, 
Or other accident which him aghast ; 
Of whom he asked, whence he lately came, 
And whither now he travelled so fast? 
For sore he swat, and, ronuing through 

that same 
Thicke forest, was bescracht and both his 

feet nigh lame. 

IV. 

Panting for breath, and almost out of 

hart. 
The Dwarfe him answerd ; * Sir, ill mote 

I stay 
To tell the same : I lately did depart 
From Faery court, where I have many a 

day 
Served a gentle Lady of great sway 
And high accompt through out all Elfin 

land. 
Who lately left the same, and tooke this 

way. 
Her now I seeke ; and if ye understand 
Which way she fared hath, good Sir, tell 

out of hand.' 



'What mister wight,' (saide he) 'and 

how arayd ? ' 
' Royally clad ' (quoth he) ' in cloth of 

gold. 
As meetest may beseeme a noble mayd : 
Her faire lockes in ricli circlet be enrold, 
A fayrer wight did never Sunne behold ; 
And on a Palfrey rydes more white then 

snow. 
Yet she her selfe is whiter manifold. 
The surest signe, whereby ye may her 

know, 
Is that she is the fairest wight alive, I 

trow.' 



'Now certes, swaine,' (said he) 'such 

one, I weene. 
Fast flying through this forest from her fo, 
A foule ill-favoured foster, I have scene : 
Her selfe, well as I might, I reskewd tho, 
But could not stay, so fast she did foregoe. 
Carried away with wings of speedy feare.' 
'Ah, dearest God!' (quoth he) 'that is 

great woe. 
And wondrous ruth to all that shall it 

heare : 



But can ye read. Sir, how I may her finde, 
or where ? ' 



' Perdy, me lever were to weeten that,' 
(Saide he) ' then ransome of the richest 

knight. 
Or all the good that ever yet I gat : 
But froward fortune, and too forward 

Night, 
Such happinesse did, maulgre, to me 

spight. 
And fro me reft both life and light attone. 
But, Dwarfe, aread what is that Lady 

bright 
That through this forrest wandreth thus 

alone ? 
For of her errour straunge I have great 

ruth and mone.' 



' That Ladle is,' (quoth he) ' where so 

she bee. 
The bountiest virgin and most debonaire 
That ever living eye, I weene, did see. 
Lives none this day that may with her 

compare 
In stedfast chastitie and vertue rare. 
The goodly ornaments of beautie bright; 
And is ycleped Florimell the fayre, 
Faire Florimell belov'd of manj^a knight, 
Yet she loves none but one, that Marinell 

is hight. 

IX. 

' A Sea-nymphes sonne, that Marinell is 
hight, 
Of my deare Dame is loved dearely well : 
In other none, but him, she sets delight; 
All her delight is set on Marinell, 
But he sets nought at all by Florimell ; 
For Ladies love his motlier long ygoe 
Did him, they say, forwarne through sa- 
cred spell : 
But fame now flies, that of a forreine foe 
He is yslaine, which is the ground of all 
our woe. 

X. 

* Five daies there be since he (they say) 
was slaine, 
And fowre since Florimell the Court for- 
went, 
And vowed never to returne againe. 
Till him alive or dead she did invent. 
Therefore, faire Sir, for love of knighthood 

gent. 
And honour of trew Ladies, if ye may 
By your good counsel), or bold hardiment, 
Or succour her, or me direct the way, 
Do one or other good, I you most humbly 
pray. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



231 



XI. 

' So may ye gaine to you full great re- 
nowme 

Of all good Ladies through the worlde so 
wide, 

And haply iu her hart finde highest rowme 

Of whom ye seeke to be most magnifide ; 

At least eteruall meede shall you abide.' 

To whom the Prince : ' Dwarfe, comfort 
to thee take, 

For, till thou tidiugs learne what her be- 
tide, 

I here avow thee never to forsake. 

Ill weares he amies, that nill them use for 
Ladies sake.' 



So with the Dwarfe he back retourn'd 
againe, 
To seeke his Lady where he mote her 

fiude ; 
But by the way he greatly gan complaiue 
The want of his good Squire late lefte be- 

hinde. 
For whom he wondrous pensive grew in 

minde. 
For doubt of daunger which mote him be- 
tide ; 
For him he loved above all mankinde. 
Having him trew and faithf ull ever tride, 
And bold, as ever Squyre that waited by 
knights side : 

XIII. 

Who all this while full hardly was as- 
sayd 

Of deadly daunger, which to him betidd ; 

For, whiles his Lord pursewd that noble 
Mayd, 

After that foster fowle he fiercely ridd 

To bene avenged of the shame he did 

To that faire Damzell : Him he chaced 
long 

Through the thicke woods wherein he 
would have hid 

His shameful! head from his avengemeut 
strong. 

And oft him threatned death for his out- 
rageous wrong. 



Nathlesse the villein sped himselfe so 

well. 
Whether through swiftnesse of hisspeedie 

beast, 
Or knowledge of those woods where he 

did dwell, 
That shortly he from daunger was releast. 
And out of sight escaped at the least : 
Yet not escaped from the dew reward 
Of his bad deedes, which daily he iucreast, 



Ne ceased not, till him oppressed hard 
The heavie plague that for such leachours 
is prepard. 



For soone as he was vanisht out of sight. 
His coward courage gan emboldned bee, 
And cast t' avenge him of that fowle de- 

spight 
Which he had borne of his bold enimee : 
Tho to his brethren came, for they were 

three 
L^ngratious children of one gracelesse syre. 
And unto them complayned how that he 
Had used beene of that foolehardie 

Squyre : 
So them with bitter words he stird to 

bloodie yre. 

XVI. 

Forthwith themselves with their sad in- 
struments 

Of spoyle and murder they gan arme by- 
live, 

And with him foorth into the forrest went 

To wreake the wrath, which he did earst 
revive 

In their sterne brests, on him which late 
did drive 

Their brother to reproch and shameful! 
flight ; 

For they had vow'd that never he alive 

Out of that forest should escape their 
might : 

Vile rancour their rude harts had fild with 
sucli despight. 

XVII. 

Within that wood there was a covert 

glade, 
Foreby a narrow foord, to them well 

knowne. 
Through which it was uneath for wight 

to wade ; 
And now l)y fortune it was overflowne. 
By that same way they knew that Squyre 

unknowne 
Mote algates passe : forthy themselves 

they set 
There in await with thicke woods over- 
grown e. 
And all the while their malice they did 

whet 
With cruell threats his passage through 

the ford to let. 

XVIII. 

It fortuned, as they devised had : 
The gentle Squyre came rydiug that same 
way, 



232 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Unweeting of their wile and treason bad, 
And through the ford to passen did assay ; 
But that tierce foster, which late fled 

away, 
Stoutly foorth stepping on the further 

shore, 
Him boldly bad his passage there to stay. 
Till he had made amends, and full restore 
For all the damage which he had him doen 

afore. 

XIX. 

With that at him a quiv'ring dart he 

threw, 
AVith so fell force, and villehious despite. 
That through his haberjeon the forkehead 

flew. 
And through the linked mayles empierced 

quite. 
But had no powre in his soft flesh to bite. 
That stroke the hardy Squire did sore dis- 
please. 
But more that him he could not come to 

smite ; 
For by no meanes the high banke he could 

sease, 
But labour'd long in that deepe ford with 

vaine disease. 



And still the foster with his long bore- 

speare 
Him kept from landing at his wished 

will. 
Anone one sent out of the thicket neare 
A cruell shaft, headed with deadly ill, 
And fethered with an unlucky quill: 
The wicked Steele stayd not till it did light 
In his left thigh, and deepely did it thrill : 
Exceeding griefe that wound in him em- 

pight. 
But more that with his foes he could not 

come to fight. 



At last, through wrath and vengeaunce 

making way. 
He on the bancke arryvd with mickle 

payne. 
Where the third brother him did sore as- 
say, 
And drove at him with all his might and 

mayne 
A forest-bill, which both his hands did 

strayne ; 
But warily he did avoide the blow, 
And with his speare requited him againe, , 
That both his sides were thrilled with the 

throw, 
And a large streame of blood out of the 

wound did flow. 



He, tombling downe, with gnashing | 

teeth did bite 
The bitter earth, and bad to lett him in 
Into the balefull house of endlesse night. 
Where wicked ghosts doe waile their 

former sin. 
Tho gan the battaile freshly to begin ; 
For nathemore for that spectacle bad 
Did th' other two their cruell vengeaunce 

blin. 
But bothattonceon both sides him bestad. 
And load upon him layd his life for to 

have had. 

XXIII. 

Tho when that villayn he aviz'd, which 

late 
Affrighted had the fairest Florimell, 
Full of fiers fury and indignant hate 
To him he turned, and with rigor fell 
Smote him so rudely on the Pannikell, 
That to the chin he clefte his head in 

twaine. 
Downe on the ground his carkas groveling 

fell : 
His sinfull sowle with desperate disdaiue 
Out of her fleshly ferme fled to the place 

of paine. 



That seeing, now the only last of three 
Who with that wicked shafte him wounded 

had. 
Trembling with horror, as that did foresee 
The fearefull end of hisavengement sad, 
Through which he follow should his breth- 
ren bad, 
His bootelesse bow in feeble hand upcaught, 
And therewith shott an arrow at the 

lad; 
Which, fayntly fluttering, scarce his hel- 
met raught, 
And glauncing fel to ground, but him an- 
noyed naught. 



With that he would have fled into the 
wood ; 
But Timias him lightly overhent, 
Right as he entring was into the flood. 
And strooke at him with force so violent, 
That headlesse him into the foord he 

sent : 
The carcas with the streame was carried 

downe. 
But th' head fell backeward on the Conti- 
nent ; 
So mischief fel upon the meaners crowne. 
They three be dead with sham©, the Squire 
lives with renowue, 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



33 



XXVI. 

He lives, but takes small joy of his re- 
nowue ; 

For of that cruell wound he bled so sore, 

That from his steed he fell in deadly 
swowne : 

Yet still the blood forth gusht iu so great 
store, 

That he lay wallowd all in his owne gore. 

Now God thee keepe, thou gentlest squire 
alive, 

Els shall thy loving Lord thee see no more ; 

But both of comfort him thou shalt de- 
prive. 

And eke thy selfe of honor which thou 
didst atchive. 



Providence heveuly passeth living 

thought, 
And doth for wretched mens reliefe make 

way; 
For loe! great grace or fortune thither 

brought 
Comfort to him that comf ortlesse now lay. 
In those same woods ye well remember may 
How that a noble hunteresse did wonne, 
8hee, that base Braggadochio did affray. 
And make him fast out of the forest ronne ; 
Belphoebe was her name, as faire as Phcje- 

bus sunne. 

XXVIII. 

She on a day, as shee pursewd the 

chace 
Of some wilde beast, which with her 

arrowes keene 
She wounded had, the same along did 

trace 
By tract of blood, which she had freshly 

seene 
To have besprinckled all the grassy 

greene : 
By the great persue which she there per- 

ceav'd. 
Well hoped shee the beast engor'd had 

beene, 
And made more haste the life to have 

bereav'd ; 
»But ah ! her expectation greatly was de- 

ceav'd. 

XXIX. 

Shortly she came whereas that wofull 

Squire, 
With blood deformed, lay in deadly 

swownd ; 
In whose faire eyes, like lamps of 

quenched fire, 
The Christall humor stood congealed 

rownd ; 



His locks, like faded leaves fallen to 

grownd, 
Knotted with blood iu bounches rudely 

ran ; 
And his sweete lips, on which before that 

stownd 
The bud of youth to blossome faire began, 
Spoild of their rosy red were woxen pale 

and wan. 

XXX. 

Saw never living eie more heavy sight, 
That could have made a rocke of stone to 

rew. 
Or rive in twaiue : which when that Lady 

bright. 
Besides all hope, with melting eies did 

vew, 
All suddeinly abasht shee chaunged hew, 
And with sterne horror backward gan to 

start ; 
But when shee better him beheld shee 

grew 
Full of soft passion and unwonted smart : 
The point of pitty perced through her 

tender hart. 



Meekely shee bowed downe, to weete if 

life 
Yett in his frosen members did remaine; 
And, feeling by his pulses beating rife 
That the w^eake sowle her seat did yett 

retaine. 
She cast to comfort him with busie paine. 
His double folded neeke she reard upright, 
And rubd his temples and each trembling 

value ; 
His mayled habergeon she did undight. 
And from his head his heavy burganet did 

light. 

XXXII. 

Into the woods thenceforth in haste 

shee went, 
To seeke for hearbes that mote him 

remedy ; 
For shee of herbes had great intendi- 

ment, 
Taught of the Nymplie which from her 

infancy 
Her uourced had in trew Nobility : 
Thei'e, whether yt divine Tobacco were, 
Or Panachffia, or Polygony, 
Shee fownd, and brought it to her patient 

deare. 
Who al this while lay bledhig out his 

hart-blood neare. 

XXXIII. 

The soveraine weede betwixt two mar- 
bles plaine 



234 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Sliee powDded small, and did in peeces 
bruze ; 

And then atweene her lilly handes twaine 

Into his wound the juice thereof did 
scruze ; 

And round about, as she could well it uze, 

The flesh therewith shee suppled and did 
steepe, 

T' abate all spasme, and soke the swell- 
ing bruze ; 

And, alter having searcht the intuse 
deepe, 

She with her scarf did bind the wound 
from cold to keepe. 

XXXIV. 

By this he had sweet life recur'd 
agayne, 
And, groning inly deepe, at last his eies, 
His watry eies drizling like deawy rayne, 
He up gan lifte toward the azure skies, 
From whence descend all hopelesse reme- 
dies: 
Therewith he sigh'd; and, turning him 

aside, 
The goodly Maide, ful of divinities 
And gifts of heavenly grace, he by him 

spide. 
Her bow and gilden quiver lying him be- 
side. 

XXXV. 

' Mercy, deare Lord ! ' (said he) ' what 

grace is this 
That thou hast shewed to me sinfull 

wight. 
To send thi)ie Angell from her bowre of 

blis 
To comfort me in my distressed plight. 
Angell, or Goddesse doe I call thee right? 
What service may I doe unto thee meete, 
That hast from darken6s me returnd to 

light, 
And with thy hevenly salves and med- 

'cines sweete 
Hast drest my sinfull wounds? I kisse 

thy bles'sed feete.' 



Thereat she blushing said ; ' Ah ! gentle 
Squire, 
Nor Goddesse I, nor Angell ; but the Mayd 
And daughter of a woody Nymphe, desu-e 
No service but thy safety and ayd ; 
Which if thou gaine, I shal be well apayd. 
Wee mortall wights, whose lives and for- 
tunes bee 
To commun accidents stil open layd, 
Are bownd with commun bond of fra'iltee. 
To succor wretched wights whom we cap- 
tived see.' 



XXXVII. 

By this her Damzells, which the former 

chace 
Had undertaken after her, arryv'd, 
As did Belphu^be, in the bloody place. 
And thereby deemd the beast had bene 

depriv'd 
Of life, whom late their ladies arrow 

ryv'd : 
Forthy the bloody tract they followd 

fast, 
And every one to ronne the swiftest 

stryv'd ; 
But two of them the rest far overpast. 
And where their Lady was arrived at the 

last. 

XXXVIII. 

Where when they saw that goodlj'^ boy 

with blood 
Defowled, and their Lady dresse his 

wownd, 
They wondred much ; and shortly under- 
stood 
How him in deadly case theyr Lady 

fownd, 
An4 reskewed out of the hea^^ stownd. 
Eftsoones his warlike courser, which was 

strayd 
Farre in the woodes whiles that he lay in 

swownd, 
She made those Damzels search ; which 

being stayd. 
They did him set theron, and forth with 

them convayd. 



Into that forest farre they thence him 

led, 
Where was their dwelling, in a pleasant 

glade 
With mountaines rownd about environed, 
And mightie woodes which did the valley 

shade 
And like a stately Theatre it made. 
Spreading it selfe into a spatious plainer 
And in the midst a little river plaide 
Emongst the pumy stones, which seemd 

to plaine 
With gentle murmure that his cours they 

did restraine. ^ 



Beside the same a dainty place there 

lay. 
Planted with mirtle trees and laurells 

gi-eene, 
In which the birds song many a lovely lay 
Of Gods high praise, and of their loves 

sweet teene, 
As it an earthly Paradize had beeue : 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



235 



In whose enclosed shadow there was 

pight 
A faire Pavilion, scarcely to bee scene, 
The which was al within most richly 

dight, 
That greatest Princes liking it mote well 

delight. 

XLI. 

Thither they brought that wounded 

Squyre, and layd 
In easie couch his feeble limbes to rest. 
He rested him awhile ; and then the Mayd 
His readie wound with better salves new 

drest : 
Daily she dressed him, and did the best 
His grievous hurt to guarish, that she 

might ; 
That shortly she his dolour hath redrest. 
And his foule sore reduced to faire plight : 
It she reduced, but himself e destroyed 

quight. 

XLII. 

O foolish physick, and unfruitfull 

paine, 
That heales up one, and makes another 

wound I 
She his hurt thigh to him recurd againe, • 
But hurt his hart, the which before was 

sound, 
Through an unwary dart, which did re- 

bownd 
From her faire eyes and gratious counte- 

naunce. 
"What bootes it him from death to be 

unbownd, 
To be captived in endlesse duraunce 
Of sorrow and despeyre without aleg- 

geaunce ! 

XLIII. 

Still as his wound did gather, and grow 

hole, 
So still his hart woxe sore, and health 

decayd : 
Madnesse to save a part, and lose the 

whole ! 
Still whenas he beheld the heavenly 

Mayd, 
Whiles dayly playsters to his wownd she 

»layd, 
So still his Malady the more increast, . 
The whiles her matchlesse beautie him 

dismaj^d. 
Ah God ! what other could he do at least, 
But love so fayre a Lady that his life 
releast ? 

XLIV. 

Long while he strove in his corageous 
brest 
With reason dew the passion to subdew, 



And love for to dislodge out of his nest : 
Still when her excellencies he did vew, 
Her soveraiue bountie and celestiall 

hew, 
The same to love he strongly was con- 

straynd ; 
But when his meane estate he did revew, 
He from such hardy boldnesse was re- 

straynd. 
And of his lucklesse lott and cruell love 

thus playnd : 

XLV. 

' Unthankfull wretch,' (said he) 'is 

this the meed, 
With which her soverain mercy thou 

doest quight? 
Thy life she saved by her gratious deed ; 
But thou doest weene with villeinous 

despight 
To blott her honour, and her heavenly 

light. 
Dye rather, dye, then so disloyally 
Deeme of her high desert, or seeme so 

light: 
Fayre death it is, to shonne more shame, 

to dy : 
Dye rather, dy, then ever love disloyally. 



' But if to love disloyalty it bee. 

Shall I then hate her that from deathes 
do re 

Me brought? ah, farre be such reproch 
fro mee ! 

What can I lesse doe then her love there- 
fore, 

Sith I her dew reward cannot restore? 

Dye rather, dye, and dying doe her serve ; 

Dying her serve, and living her adore ; 

Thy life she gave, thy life she doth de- 
serve : 

Dye rather, dye, then ever from her ser- 
vice swerve. 

XLVII. 

' But, foolish boy, what bootes thy ser- 
vice bace 

To her to whom the hevens doe serve and 
sew? 

Thou, a meane Squyre of meeke and 
lowly place ; 

She, hevenly borne and of celestiall hew. 

How then ? of all love taketh cquall vew ; 

And doth not highest God vouchsafe to 
take 

The love and service of the basest crew ? 

If she will not, dye meekly for her sake : 

Dye rather, dye, then ever so faire love 
forsake ! ' I 



236 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Thus warreid he long time against his 

will ; 
Till that through weaknesse he was forst 

at last 
To yield himself e unto the mightie ill, 
Which, as a vietour proud, gan ransack 

fast 
His inward partes, and all his entrayles 

wast, 
That neither hlood in face nor life in hart 
It left, but both did quite drye up and 

blast ; 
As percing levin, which the inner part 
Of every thing consumes, and calcineth 

by art. 

XLIX. 

Which seeing fayre Belphcebe gan to 
feare, 

Least that his wound were inly well not 
heald, 

Or that the wicked Steele empoysned 
were : 

Litle shee weend that love he close con- 
ceald. 

Yet still he wasted, as the snow congeald 

When the bright sunne his beams theron 
doth beat : 

Yet never he his hart to her reveald ; 

But rather chose to dye for sorow great, 

Then with dishonorable termes her to en- 
treat. 

li. 

She, gracious Lady, yet no paines did- 
spare 
To doe him ease, or doe him remedy. 
ISIany Restoratives of vertues rare. 
And costly Cordialles she did apply. 
To mitigate his stubborne malady: 
But that sweet Cordiall, which can re- 
store 
A love-sick hart, she did to him envy ; 
To him, and to all th' unworthy world 

forlore 
She did envy that soveraine salve in secret 
store. 

LI. 

That daintie Rose, the daughter of 'her 

Morne, 
More deare then life she tendered, whose 

flowre 
The girlond of her honour did adorne : 
Ne suffred she the Middayes scorching 

powre, 
Ne the sharp Northerne wind thereon to 

show re ; 
But lapped up her silken leaves most 

{•ha;<i^'re, 
When so the fro ward skye began to lowre ; 



But, soone as calmed was the christall 

ay re. 
She did it fayre dispred and let to florish 
fayre. 

LII. 

Eternall God, in his almightie powre. 
To make ensample of his heavenly grace. 
In Paradize whylome did plant this 

flowre ; 
Whence he it fetcht out of her native 

place. 
And did in stocke of earthly flesh enrace, 
That mortall men her glory should 

admyre. 
In gentle Ladies breste and bounteous race 
Of woman kind it fayrest Flowre doth 

spy re, 
And beareth fruit of honour and all chast 

desyre. 

LIII. 

Fayre ympes of beautie, whose bright 

shining beames 
Adorne the world with like to heavenly 

light. 
And to your willes both royalties and 

Reames 
Subdew, through conquest of your won- 
drous might, 
With this fayre flowre your goodly gir- 

londs dight 
Of chastity and vertue virginall, 
That shall embellish more your beautie 

bright. 
And crowne your heades with heavenly 

coronall, 
Such as the Angels weare before Gods 

tribuuall! 

LIV. 

To your faire selves a faire ensample 

frame 
Of this faire virgin, this Belphebe fayre'; 
To whom, in perfect love and spotlesse 

fame 
Of chastitie, none living may compayre : 
Ne poysnous Envy justly can empayre 
The prayse of her fresh flowring Mayden- 

head ; 
Forthy she standeth on the highest stayre 
Of th" honorable stage of womanhead. 
That Ladies all may follow her ensaraple# 

dead. 



In so great prayse of stedfast chastity 
Nathlesse she was so courteous and 

kynde, 
Tempred with grace and goodly modesty. 
That seemed those two vertues strove to 

fynd 
The higher place in her Heroick myud : 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



237 



So striving each did other more augment, 
And both encreast the prayse of woman 
kynde, 



And both encreast her beautie excellent : 
So all did make in her a perfect comple- 
ment. 



CANTO VL 

The birth of fayre Belphoebe and 

Of Amorett is told : 
The Gardins of Adonis fraught 

With pleasures manifold. 



Well may I weene, fairs Ladies, all 

this while 
Ye wonder how this noble Damozell 
So great perfections did in her compile, 
Sith that in salvage forests she did dwell, 
So farre from court and royall Citadell, 
The great schoolmaistresse of all courtesy : 
Seemeth that such wilde woodes should far 

expell 
All civile usage and gentility. 
And gentle sprite deforme with rude rus- 
ticity. 

II. 
But to this faire Belphoebe in her berth 
The hevens so favorable were and free, 
Looking with rayld aspect upon the earth 
In th' Horoscope of her nativitee. 
That all the gifts of grace and ehastitee 
On her they poured forth of plenteous 

home : 
Jove iaught on Venus from his soverayne 

see, 
And Phcebus with faire beames did her 

adorne. 
And all the Graces rockt her cradle being 

borne. 

HI. 

Her berth was of the wombe of IVIorn- 

ing dew, 
And her conception of the joyous Prime ; 
And all her whole creation dicl her shew 
Pure and unspotted from all loathly crime 
That is ingenerate in fleshly slime. 
So was this virgin borne, so was she bred ; 
So was she trayned up from time to time 
In all chaste vertue and true bounti-hed. 
Till to her dew perfection she were 

ripened. 

IV. 

Her mother was the faire Chrysogonee, 
The daughter of Amphisa, who by race 
A Faerie was, yborne of high degree. 
She bore Belphoebe ; she bore in like cace 
Fayre Amoretta in the second place: 
These two were twinnes, and tvvixt them 

two did share 
The heritage of all celestiall grace ; 



That all the rest it seemd they robbed bare 
Of bounty, and of beautie, and all vertues 



It were a goodly storie to declare 
By what straunge accident faire Chryso- 

gone 
Conceiv'd these infants, and how them 

she bare 
In this wilde forrest wandring all alone. 
After she had nine moneths fulfild and 

gone: 
For not as other wemens commune brood 
They were enwombed in the sacred throne 
Of her chaste bodie ; nor with commune 

food. 
As other wemens babes, they sucked vitall 

blood : 

VI. 

But wondrously they were begot and 

bred 
Through influence of th' hevens fruitfull 

ray, 
As it in antique bookes is mentioned. 
It was upon a Sommers shinie day, 
AVhen Titan faire his beames did display, 
In a fresh fountaine, far from all mens 

vew, 
She bath'd her brest the boyling heat 

t'allay; 
She bath'd with roses red and violets 

blew. 
And all the sweetest flowers that in the 

forrest grew : 



Till faint through yrkesome wearines, 

adowne 
Upon the grassy ground her selfe she layd 
To sleepe, the whiles a gentle slombring 

swowne 
Upon her fell, all naked bare displayd. 
The sunbeames bright upon her body 

playd, 
Being through former bathing mollifide, 
And pierst into her wonil)e, where they 

embayd. 
With so sweet senee and secret powre un- 

spide, 



238 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



That in her pregnant flesh they shortly 
fructifide. 



Miraculous may seeme to him that 

reades 
So straunge ensample of conception ; 
But reason teacheth that the fruitfull 

seades 
Of all things living, through impression 
Of the sunbeames in moyst complexion, 
Doe life conceive and quickned are by 

kynd : 
So, after Nilus inundation. 
Infinite shapes of creatures men doe fynd 
Informed in the mud on which the Sunne 

hath shynd. 



Great father he of generation 
Is rightly cald, th' authour of life and 

light; 
And his faire sister for creation 
Ministreth matter fit, which, tempred right 
With heate and humour, breedes the living 

wight. 
So sprong these twinnes in womb of Chry- 

sogone ; 
Yet wist she nought thereof, but sore 

ai¥right, 
Wondred to see her belly so upblone, 
AVhich still increast till she her terme had 

full outgone. 



Whereof conceiving shame and foule 

disgrace, 
Albe her guiltlesse conscience her cleard, 
She fled into the wildernesse a space, 
Till that uuweeldy burden she had reard, 
And shund dishonor which as death she 

f eard : 
Where, wearie of long traveill, downe to 

rest 
Her selfe she set, and comfortably cheard : 
There a sad cloud of sleepe her overkest, 
And seized every sence with sorrow sore 

opprest. 

XI. 

It fortuned, faire Venus having lost 
Her little sonne, the winged god of love, 
Who, for some light displeasure which 

him crost, 
Was from her fled as flit as ayery Dove, 
And left her blisfull bowre of joy above: 
(So from her often he had fled away. 
When she for ought him sharpely did 

reprove. 
And wandred in the world in straunge 

aray, 



Disguiz'd in thousand shapes, that none 
might him bewray). 



Him for to seeke, she left her heavenly 

hous. 
The house of goodly formes and faire 

aspect. 
Whence all the world derives the glorious 
Features of beautie, and all shapes select. 
With which high God his workmanship 

hath deckt; 
And searched everie way through which 

his wings 
Had borne him, or his tract she mote 

detect : 
She promist kisses sweet, and sweeter 

things, 
Unto the man that of him tydings to her 

brings. 

XIII. 

First she him sought in Court, where 

most he us'd 
AVhylome to haunt, but there she found 

him not ; 
But many there she found which sore 

accus'd 
His falshood, and with fowle infamous 

blot 
His cruell deedes and wicked wyles did 

spot: 
Ladies and Lordes she everywhere mote 

heare 
Complayning, how with his empoysned 

shot 
Their wofull harts he wounded had why- 

leare 
And so had left them languishing twixt 

hope and feare. 



She then the Cities sought from gate to 

gate. 
And everie one did aske, did he him see ? 
And everie one her answerd, that too late 
He had him scene, and felt the crueltee 
Of his sharpe dartes and whot artilleree: 
And every one threw forth reproches rife j 
Of his mischievous deedes, and sayd that 

hee ^ 

Was the disturber of all civill life. 
The enimy of peace, and authour of all 

strife. 



Then in the countrey she abroad him 

sought, 
And in the rurall cottages inquir'd ; 
Where also many plaintes to her were 

brought, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



239 



How he their heedelesse harts with love 

had tir'd, 
And his false venim through their veines 

inspir'd : 
And eke the gentle Shepheard swaynes, 

which sat 
Keeping their fleecy fiockes as they were 

hyr'd, 
She sweetly heard complaine, both how 

and what 
Her Sonne had to them doeu ; yet she did 

smile thereat. 



But when in none of all these she him 

got, 
She gan avize where els he mote him hyde : 
At last she her bethought that she had not 
Yet sought the salvage woods and forests 

wyde, 
In which full many lovely Nymphes abyde ; 
Mongst whom might be that he did closely 

lye, 

Or that the love of some of them him tyde : 
Forthy she thither east her course t' apply, 
To search the secret haunts of Dianes 
company. 

XVII. 

Shortly unto the wastefull woods she 

came, 
Whereas she found the Goddesse with her 

crew, 
After late chace of their embrewed game, 
Sitting beside a fountaine in a reAV ; 
Some of them washing with the li(iuid dew 
From off their dainty limbs the dusty 

sweat 
And soyle, which did deforme their lively 

hew; 
Others lay shaded from the scorching heat, 
The rest upon her person gave attendance 

great. 

XVIII. 

She, having hong upon a bough on high 
Her bow and painted quiver, had unlaste 
Her silver buskins from her nimble thigh, 
And her lanck loynes ungirt, and brests 

unbraste. 
After her heat the breathing cold to taste : 
Her golden lockes, that late in tresses 

bright 
Embreaded were for hind ring of her haste. 
Now loose about her shoulders hong un- 

dight. 
And were with sweet Ambrosia all be- 

sprinckled light. 



Soone as she Venus saw behinde her 
backe, 



She was asham'd to be so loose surpriz'd ; 
And woxe halfe wroth against her damzels 

slacke, 
That had not her thereof before aviz'd, 
But suffred her so carelesly disguiz'd 
Be overtaken. Soone her garments loose 
Upgath'ring, in her bosome shecompriz'd 
Well as she might, and to the Goddesse 

rose; 
Whiles all her Nymphes did like a girlond 

her enclose. 



Goodly she gan faire Cytherea greet. 
And shortly asked her, what cause her 

brought 
Into that wildernesse for her unmeet, 
From her sweete bowres, and beds with 

pleasures fraught? 
That suddein chaunge she straunge adven- 
ture thought. 
To whom halfe weeping she thus an- 
swered ; 
That she her dearest sonne Cupido sought, 
Who in his frowardnes from her was 

fled. 
That she repented sore to have him 
angered. 

XXI. 

Thereat Diana gan to smile, in scorne 
Of her vaine playut, and to her scoffing 

sayd : 
' Great pitty sure that ye be so forlorne 
Of your gay sonne, that gives ye so good 

ayd 
To your disports : ill mote ye bene apayd.' 
But she was more engrieved, and replide ; 
' Faire sister, ill beseemes it to upbrayd 
A dolefull heart with so disdainfull pride : 
The like that mine may be your paiue 

another tide. 

XXII. 

' As you in woods and wanton wilder- 
nesse 
Your glory sett to chace the salvage 

beasts, 
So my delight is all in joyfulnesse. 
In beds, in bowres, in banckets, and in 

feasts : 
And ill becomes you, with your lofty 

creasts. 
To scorne the joy that Jove is glad to 

seeke : 
We both are bownd to follow heavens 

beheasts. 
And tend our charges with obeisaunce 

meeke. 
Spare, gentle sister, with reproch my 

paine to eeke ; 



240 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



i 



'And tell me, if that ye my sonue have 
heard 
To lurke emongst your Nimphes in secret 

wixe, 
Or keepe their cabins : much I am affeard 
Least he like one of them him selfe dis- 
guize, 
And turne his arrowes to their exercize. 
So may he long him selfe full easie hide ; 
For he is faire and fresh in face and guize 
As any Nimphe ; (let not it be envide.') 
So saying, every Nimph full narrowly shee 
eide. 

XXIV. 

But Phcebe therewith sore was angered. 
And sharply saide : ' Goe, Dame ; goe, 

seeke your boy, 
Where you him lately lefte, in Mars his 

bed: 
He comes not here ; we scorue his foolish 

joy, 
Ne lend we leisure to his idle toy : 
But if I catch him in this company, 
By Stygian lake I vow, whose sad annoy 
The Gods doe dread, he dearly shall abye : 
lie clip his wanton wings, that he no more 

shall tlye.' 



Whom whenas Venus saw so sore dis- 

pleasd, 
Shee inly sory was, and gan relent 
What shee had said; so her she soone 

appeasd 
With sugred words and gentle blandish- 
ment, 
Which as a fountaine from her sweete lips 

went. 
And welled goodly forth, that in short 

space 
She was well pleasd, and forth her dam- 

zells sent 
Through all the woods, to search from 

place to place. 
If any tract of him or tidings they mote 

trace. 

XXVI. 

To search the God of love her Nimphes 

she sent 
Throughout the wandring forest every 

where : 
And after them her selfe eke with her went 
To seeke the fugitive both farre and nere. 
So long they sought, till they arrived were 
In that same shady covert whereas lay 
Faire Crysogone in slombry traunce 

whilere ; 
Who in her sleepe (a wondrous thing to 

say) 



Unwares had borne two babes, as faire as 
springing day. 



Unwares she them conceivd, unwares 

she bore : 
She bore withouten paine, that she con- 

ceiv'd 
Withouten pleasure ; ne her need implore 
Lucinaes aide: which when they both 

perceiv'd. 
They were through wonder nigh of sence 

berev'd, 
And gazing each on other nought bespake. 
At last they both agreed her seeming 

griev'd 
Out of her heavie swowne not to awake 
But from her loving side the tender babes 

to take. 

XXVIII. 

Up they them tooke ; each one a babe 

uptooke. 
And with them carried to be fostered. 
Dame Phoebe to a Nymphe her babe be- 

tooke 
To be upbrought in perfect Maydeuhed, 
And, of her selfe, her name Belphoebe red : 
But Venus hers thence far away convayd. 
To be upbrought in goodly womanhed ; 
And, in her litle loves stead, which was 

strayd, 
Her Amoretta cald, to comfort her dis- 
may d. 

XXIX. 

Shee brought her to her joyous Paradize, 
Wher most she wonnes when she on earth 

does dwell ; 
So faire a place as Nature can devize: 
Whether in Paphos, or Cytheron hill, 
Or it in Gnidus bee, I wote not well ; 
But well I wote by triall, that this same 
All other pleasaunt places doth excell, 
And called is by her lost lovers name. 
The Gardin of Adonis, far renowmd by 

fame. 

XXX. 

In that same Gardin all the goodly 
flowres. 
Wherewith dame Nature doth her beau- 
tify, 
And decks the girlonds of her Paramoures, 
Are fetclit: there is the first seminary 
Of all things that are borne to live and 

dye. 
According to their kynds. Long worke it 
N were 

Here to account the endlesse progeny 
Of all the weeds that bud and blossome 
there ; 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



24: 



But so much as doth need must needs be 
counted here. 



It sited was in fruitfull soyle of old, 
And girt in witli two walls on either side ; 
The one of yron, the other of bright gold, 
That none might thorough breake, nor 

overstride : 
And double gates it had which opened 

wide, 
By which both in and out men moten pas ; 
Til' one faire and fresh, the other old and 

dride. 
Old Genius the porter of them was, 
Old Genius, the which a double nature has. 



He letteth in, he letteth out to wend 
All that to come into the world desire : 
A thousand thousand naked babes attend 
About him day and night, which doe re- 
quire 
That he with fleshly weeds would them 

attire : 
Such as him list, such as eternall fate 
Ordained hath, he clothes with sinfull 

mire, 
And sendeth forth to live in raortall state. 
Till they agayn returne backe by the 
hinder gate. 



After that they againe retourned beene, 
They in that Gardin planted bee agayne, 
And grow afresh, ^s they had never scene 
Fleshly corruption, nor mortall pajTie. 
Some thousand yeares so doen they there 

remayne, 
And then of him are clad with other hew, 
Or sent into the chaungefull world agayne. 
Till thither they retourne where first they 

grew: 
So, like a wheele, arownd they ronne from 

old to new. 



Ne needs there Gardiner to sett or sow, 
To plant or prune; for of their owne 

accord 
All things, as they created were, doe grow. 
And yet remember well the mighty word 
Which first was spoken by th' Almighty 

Lord, 
That bad them to increase and multiply : 
Ne doe they need with water of the ford. 
Or of the clouds, to moysten their roots 

dry ; 
For in themselves eternall moisture they 

imply. 



Infinite shapes of creatures there are 

bred, 
And uncouth formes, which none yet ever 

knew: 
And every sort is in a sondry bed 
Sett by it selfe, and ranckt in comely rew ; 
Some fitt for reasonable sowles t' indew ; 
Some made for beasts, some made for 

birds to weare ; 
And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew 
In endlesse rancks along enraunged were. 
That seenid the Ocean could not containe 

them there. 



Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent 
Into the world, it to replenish more ; 
Yet is the stocke not lessened nor spent, 
But still reraaines in everlasting store, 
As it at first created was of yore : 
For in the wide wombe of the world there 

lyes, 
In hatefull darknes and in deepe horrore 
An huge eternall Chaos, which supply es 
The substaunces of natures fruitfull pro- 

genyes. 

XXXVII. 

All things from thence doe their first 

being fetch. 
And borrow matter whereof they are 

made ; 
Whi(^h, whenas forme and feature it does 

ketch. 
Becomes a body, and doth then invade 
The state of life out of the griesly shade. 
That substaunce is eterne, and bideth so; 
Ne when the life decayes and forme does 

fade. 
Doth it consume and into nothing goe. 
But chaunged is, and often altred to and 

froe. 



The substaunce is not chaungd nor 

altered. 
But th' only forme and outward fashion ; 
For every substaunce is conditioned 
To chaunge her hew, and sondry formes 

to don. 
Meet for her temper and complexion : 
For formes are variable, and decay 
By course of kinde and by occasion ; 
And that faire flowre of beautie fades 

away. 
As doth tiie lilly fresh before the sunny 

ray. 

XXXIX. 

Great enimy to it, and to all the rest 
That in the Gardin of Adonis springs, 



242 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Is wicked Tyme ; who with his scyth 
addrest 

Does mow the flowring herbes and goodly 
things, 

And all their glory to the ground downe 
flings, 

Where they do wither, and are fowly 
mard : 

He flyes about, and with his flaggy winges 

Beates downe both leaves and buds with- 
out regard, 

Ne ever pitty may relent his malice hard. 



Yet pitty often did the gods relent, 
To see so faire thinges mard and spoiled 

quight ; 
And their great mother Venus did lament 
The losse of her deare brood, her deare 

delight : 
Her hart was pierst with pitty at the 

sight, 
When walking through the Gardin them 

she saw, 
Yet no'te she find redresse for such de- 

spight : 
For all that lives is subject to that law ; 
All things decay in time and to their end 

doe draw. 

XLI. 

But were it not that Time their troubler 

is. 
All that in this delightfull Gardin growes 
Should happy bee, and have immortall 

blis: 
For here all plenty and all pleasure 

flowes ; 
And sweete love gentle fitts emongst them 

throwes. 
Without fell rancor or fond gealosy. 
Franckly each Paramor his leman knowes, 
Each bird his mate ; ne any does envy 
Their goodly meriment and gay felicity. 

XLII. 

There is continuall Spring, and harvest 

there 
Continuall, both meeting at one tyme ; 
For both the boughes doe laughing blos- 
soms beare, 
And with fresh colours decke the wanton 

Pry me. 
And eke attonce the heavy trees they 

clyme, 
Which seeme to labour under their fruites 

lode : 
The whiles the joyous birdes make their 

pastyme 
Emongst the shady leaves, their sweet 

abode, 



And their trew loves without suspition tell 
abrode. 



Right in the middest of that Paradise 
There stood a stately Mount, on whose 

round top 
A gloomy grove of mirtle trees did rise. 
Whose shady boughes sharp Steele did 

never lop, 
Nor wicked beastes their tender buds did 

crop, 
But like a girlond compassed the hight ; 
And from their fruitfull sydes sweet gum 

did drop. 
That all the ground, with pretious deaw 

bedight, 
Threw forth most dainty odours and most 

sweet delight. 

XLIV. 

And in the thickest covert of that shade 
There was a pleasauut Arber, not by art 
But of the trees owne inclination made. 
Which knitting their rancke braunches, 

part to part, 
With wanton yvie twine entrayld athwart, 
And Eglantine and Caprifole emong, 
Fashiond above within their inmost part, 
That nether Phoebus beams could through 

them throng, 
Nor Aeolus sharp blast could worke them 

any wrong. 

XLV. 

And all about grew every sort of flowre. 
To which sad lovers were transformde of 

yore ; 
Fresh Hyacinthus, Phoebus paramoure 
And dearest love ; 
Foolish Narcisse, that likes the watry 

shore ; 
Sad Amaranthus, made a flowre but late, 
Sad Amaranthus, in whose purple gore 
Me seemes I see Amintas wretched fate. 
To whom sweet Poets verse hath given 

endlesse date. 

XLVI. 

There wont fayre Venus often to enjoy 
Her deare Adonis joyous company. 
And reape sweet pleasure of the wanton 

boy: 
There yet, some say, in secret he does ly, 
Lapped in flowres and pretious spycery. 
By her hid from the world, and from the 

skill 
Of Stygian Gods, which doe her love envy ; 
But she her selfe, when ever that she will, 
Possesseth him, and of his sweetnesst^ 

takes her fill. 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



243 



And sooth, it seemes, they say ; for he 

may not 
For ever dye, and ever buried bee 
In balefull night where all thinges are 

forgot : 
All be he subject to niortalitie, 
Yet is eterne in mutabilitie, 
And by succession made perpetuall, 
Transformed oft, and chaunged diverslie ; 
For him the Father of all formes they 

call: 
Therfore needs mote he live, that living 

gives to all. 



There now he liveth in eternall blis, 
Joying his goddesse, and of her enjoyd ; 
Ne feareth he henceforth that foe of his, 
Which with his cruell tuske him deadly 

cloyd : 
For that wilde Bore, the which him once 

annoyd. 
She firmely hath emprisoned for ay, 
That her sweet love his malice mote avoyd. 
In a strong rocky Cave, which is, they say, 
Hewen underneath that Mount, that none 

him losen may. 



There now he lives in everlasting joy. 
With many of the Gods in company' 
Which thither haunt, and with the winged 

boy, 
Sporting him selfe in safe felicity : 
Who when he hath with spoiles and cruelty 
Ransackt the world, and in the wofull 

harts 
Of many wretches set his triumphes hye. 
Thither resortes, and, laying his sad dartes 
Asyde, with faire Adonis playes his wan- 
ton partes. 

L. 

And his trew love faire Psyche with him 
playes, 
Fay re Psyche to him lately reconcyld. 
After long troubles and unmeet upbrayes 
With which his mother Venus her revyld, 
And eke himselfe her cruelly exyld : 
But now in stedfast love and happy state 
She with him lives, and hath him borne a 

chyld. 
Pleasure, that doth both gods and men 
\ aggrate, 

\ Pleasure, the daughter of Cupid and 
\ Psyche late. 



Hither great Venus brought this infant 
fay re. 
The yonger daughter of Chrysogonee, 
And unto Psyche with great trust and 

care 
Committed her, yfostered to bee 
And trained up in trew feminitee : 
Who no lesse carefully her tendered 
Then her owne daughter Pleasure, to 

whom shee 
INIade her companion, and her lessoned 
In all the lore of love, and goodly woman- 
head. 



In which when she to perfect ripenes 

grew, 
Of grace and beautie noble Paragone, 
She brought her forth into the worldes 

vew. 
To be th' ensample of true love alone, 
And Lodestarre of all chaste affection 
To all fayre Ladies that doe live on 

grownd. 
To Faery court she came ; where many 

one 
Admyrd her goodly haveour, and fownd 
His feeble hart wide launched with loves 

cruel wownd. 

LIII. r ' 

But she to none of them her love did 

cast. 
Save to the noble knight Sir Scudamore, 
To whom her loving hart she linked fast 
In faithf nil love, t' abide for evermore ; 
And for his dearest sake endured sore 
Sore trouble of an hainous enimy. 
Who her would forced have to have forlore 
Her former love and stedfast loialty, 
As ye may elswhere reade that ruefull 

history. 

LIV. 

But well I weene, ye first desire to learne 
What end unto that fearefull Damozell, 
Which fledd so fast from that same foster 

stearne 
Whom with his brethren Timias slew. 

befell : 
That was, to weet, the goodly Florimell ; 
Who wandering for to seeke her lover 

deare, 
Her lover deare, her dearest Marinell, 
Into misfortune fell, as ye did heare, 
And from Prince Arthure tied with wings 

of idle feare. 



244 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



CANTO VII. 

The witches sonne loves Florimell : 
She flyes ; he faines to dy. 

Satyrane saves the Squyre' of Dames 
From Gyaunts tyraiinj'. 



Like as an Hyncl forth singled from the 

heard , 
That hath escaped from a ravenous heast, 
Yet tlyes away of her owne feete afeard, 
And every leafe, that shaketh with the 

least 
Murmure of winde, her terror hath en- 

creast ; 
So fledd fayre Florimell from her vaine 

feare, 
Long after she from perill was releast : 
Each shade she saw, and each noyse she 

did heare, 
Did seeme to he the same which she escapt 

whileare. 

II. 
All that same evening she in fijing 

spent, 
And all that night her course continewed ; 
Ne did she let dull sleepe once to relent, 
Nor weariuesse to slack her luist, hut tied 
Ever alike, as if her former dred 
Were hard hehind, her ready to arrest; 
And her white Palfrey, having conquered 
The maistring raines out of her weary 

wrest, 
Perforce her carried where ever he thought 

best. 

III. 

So long as breath and hable puissaunce 
Did native corage unto him supply, 
His pace he freshly forward did advaunce, 
And carried her beyond all jeopardy; 
But nought that wanteth rest can long 

aby: 
He, having through incessant traveill 

spent 
His force, at last perforce adowne did ly, 
Ne foot could further move. The Lady 

gent 
Thereat was suddein strook with great 

astonishment ; 



And, forst t' alight, on foot mote algates 

fare 
A traveller unwonted to such way : 
Need teacheth her this lesson hard and 

rare, 



That fortune all in equall launce doth 

sway. 
And mortall miseries doth make her play. 
So long she traveild, till at length she 

came 
To an hilles side, which did to her bewray 
A litle valley subject to the same, 
All coverd with thick woodes that quite 

it overcame. 



Through the tops of the high trees she 

did descry 
A litle smoke, wdiose vapour thin and 

light 
Reeking aloft uprolled to the sky : 
Which chearefull signe did send unto her 

sight 
That in the same did wonne some living 

wight. 
Eftsooues her steps she thereunto apply d, 
And came at last in weary wretched 

plight 
Unto the place, to which her hope did 

guyde, 
To finde some refuge there, and rest her 

wearie syde. 



There in a gloomy hollow glen she 

found 
A little cottage, built of stickes and reedes 
In homely wize, and wald with sods 

around ; 
In which a witch did dwell, in loathly 

weedes 
And wilfuU want, all carelesse of her 

needes ; 
So choosing solitarie to abide 
Far from all neighbours, that her divelish 

deedes 
And hellish arts from people she might 

hide, 
And hurt far off unknowne whom ever 

she en vide. 



The Damzell there arriving entred in ; 
Where sitting on tlie Hore the Hag she 

found 
Busie (as seem'd) about some wicked gin : 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



245 



Who, sooue as she beheld that suddeiu 

stouud, 
Lightly upstarted from the dustie ground, 
And with fell looke and hollow deadly- 
gaze 
Stared on her awhile, as one astound, 
Ne had one word to speake for great 

amaze, 
But shewd by outward signes that dread 
her sence did daze. 



At last, turning her feare to foolish 
wrath, 

She askt, what devill had her thither 
brought. 

And who she was, and what unwonted 
path 

Had guided her, unwelcomed, unsought? 

To which the Damzell, full of doubtfull 
thought, 

Her mildly answer'd : ' Beldame, be not 
wroth 

With silly Virgin, by adventure brought 

Unto your dw^elling, ignorant and loth, 

That crave but rowme to rest while tem- 
pest overblo'th.' 

DC. 

With that adowne out of her riiristall 

eyne 
Few trickling teares she softly forth let 

fall, 
That like to orient perles did purely shyne 
Upon her snowy cheeke ; and therewithall 
She sighed soft, that none so bestiall 
Nor salvage hart, but i-uth of her sad 

plight 
Would make to melt, or pitteously appall ; 
And that vile Hag, all were her whole 

delight 
In mischiefe, was much moved at so pit- 

teous sight; 

X. 

And gan recomfort her in her rude 
wyse, 

With womanish compassion of her plaint. 

Wiping the teares from her suffused 
eyes, 

And bidding her sit downe, to rest her 
faint 

And wearie limbes awhile. She, nothing 
quaint 

Nor 'sdainfull of so homely fashion, 

Sith brought she was now to so hard con- 
straint. 

Sate downe upon the dusty ground anon ; 

As glad of that small rest as Bird of 
tempest gon. 



XI. 

Tho gan she gather up her garments 
rent, 
And her loose lockes to dight in order dew 
With golden wreath and gorgeous orna- 
ment ; 
Whom such w^henas the wicked Hag did 

vew, 
She was astonisht at her heavenly hew, 
And doubted her to deeme an earthly 

wight, 
But or some Goddesse, or of Dianes crew% 
And thought her to adore- with humble 

spright : 
T' adore thing so divine as beauty were 
but right. 

XII. 

This wicked w oman had a wicked sonne. 
The comfort of her age and weary dayes, 
A laesy loord, for nothing good to donne, 
But sti'etched forth in ydlenesse alwayes, 
Ne ever cast his mind to covet prayse. 
Or ply himselfe to any honest trade. 
But all the day before the sunny rayes 
He us'd to slug, or sleepe in slothfull 

shade : 
Such laesinesse both lew^d and poore 

attonce him made. 

XIII. 

He, comming home at undertime, there 

found 
The fay rest creature that he ever saw 
Sitting beside his mother on the ground ; 
The sight whereof did greatly him adaw% 
And his base thought with ten our and 

with aw 
So inly smot, that as one, which hath gaz'd 
On the bright Sunne unwares, doth soone 

withdraw 
His feeble eyne, with too much brightnes 

daz'd. 
So stared he on her, and stood long while 

aniaz'd. 

XIV. 

Softly at last he gan his mother aske, 
What mister wight that was, and whence 

deriv'd. 
That in so straunge disguizement there did 

maske. 
And by what accident she there arriv'd? 
But she, as one nigh of her wits dej)riv'd. 
With nought but ghastly lookes him 

answered ; 
Like to a ghost, that lately is reviv'd 
From Stygian shores w^here late it 

wandered : 
So both at her, and each at other 

wondered. 



246 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



But the fayre Virgin was so meeke and 

myld, 
That she to them vouchsafed to embrace 
Her goodly port, aud to their seuses vyld 
Her gentle speach applyde, that in short 

space 
She grew familiare in that desert place. 
During which time the Chorle, through 

her so kind 
And courteise use, conceiv'd affection 

hace, 
And cast to love her in his brutish mind : 
No love, but brutish lust, that was so 

beastly tind. 



Closely the wicked flame his bowels 
brent, 

And shortly grew into outrageous fire ; 

Yet had he not the hart, nor hardiment, 

As unto her to utter his desire ; 

His caytive thought durst not so high as- 
pire : 

But with soft sighes aud lovely sem- 
blaunces 

He ween'd that his affection entire 

She should aread ; many resemblaunces 

To her he made, aud many kinde remem- 
braunces. 



Oft from the forrest wildings he did 
bring, 
Whose sides empurpled were with smyling 

red; 
And oft young birds, which he had taught 

to sing, 
His maistresse praises sweetly caroled : 
Girlonds of floweres sometimes for her 

faire hed 
He fine would dight; sometimes the 

squirrell wild 
He brought to her in bands, as conquered 
To be her thrall, his fellow-servant vild: 
All which she of him tooke with counte- 
nance meeke and mild. 



But, past a while, when she fit season 
saw 
To leave that desert mansion, she cast 
In secret wize herselfe thence to with- 
draw. 
For feare of mischiefe, which she did fore- 
cast 
Might by the witch or by her sonne com- 

past. 
Her wearie Palfrey, closely as she might. 
Now well recovered after long repast. 
In his proud furnitures she freshly dight. 



His late miswandred wayes now to re- 
measure right. 

XIX. 

And earely, ere the dawning day 
appear'd. 

She forth issewed, and on her journey 
went : 

She went in perill, of each noyse affeard, 

And of each shade that did it selfe pre- 
sent ; 

For still she feared to be overhent 

Of that vile hag, or her uncivile sonne ; 

Who when, too late awaking, well they 
kent 

That their fayre guest was gone, they 
both begonne 

To make exceeding mone, as they had 
been undonne. 

XX. 

But that lewd lover did the most lament 
For her depart, that ever man did heare : 
He knockthis brest with desperate intent, 
And scratcht his face, and with his teeth 

did teare 
His rugged flesh, and rent his ragged 

heare ; 
That his sad mother, seeing his sore 

plight. 
Was greatly woe begon, and gau to feare 
Least his fraile senses were emperisht 

quight, 
Aud love to frenzy turnd, sith love is 

franticke hight. 



All wayes shee sought him to restore to 

plight, 
With herbs, with charms, with counsel, 

and with teares ; 
But tears, nor charms, nor herbs, nor 

counsell, might 
Asswage the fury which his entrails 

teares : 
So strong is passion that no reason heares. 
Tho when all other helpes she saw to faile, 
She turnd her selfe backe to her wicked 

leares ; 
And by her divelish arts thought to pre- 

vaile 
To bringe her backe againe, or worke her 

finall bale. 



Eftesoones out of her hidden cave she 

cald 
An hideous beast of horrible aspect, 
That could the stoutest corage have 

appald ; 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



247 



Monstrous, mishapt, and all his backe 

was spect 
With thousand spots of colours queiut 

elect, 
Thereto so swifte that it all beasts did 

pas: 
Like never yet did living eie detect ; 
But likest it to an Hyena was, 
That feeds on wemens flesh as others feede 

on gras. 

XXIII. 

It forth she cald, and gave it streight in 
charge 
Through thicke and thin her to poursew 



Ne once to stay to rest, or breath at 

large, 
Till her he had attaiud and brought in 

place, 
Or quite devourd her beauties scornefull 

grace. 
The Monster, swifte as word that from 

her went, 
Went forth in haste, and did her footing 

trace 
So sure and swiftly, through his perfect 

sent 
And passing speede, that shortly he her 

overhent. 

XXIV. 

Whom when the fearefuU Damzell nigh 

espide. 
No need to bid her fast away to flie : 
That ugly shape so sore her terrifide. 
That it she shund no lesse then dread to 

die; 
And her flitt palfrey did so well apply 
His nimble feet to her conceived feare, 
That w^hilest his breath did strength to 

him supply, 
From peril free he away her did beare ; 
But when his force gan faile his pace gan 

wex areare. 

XXV. 

Which whenas she perceiv'd, she was 

dismayd 
At that same last extremity ful sore, 
And of her safety greatly grew afrayd. 
And now she gan approch to the sea 

shore. 
As it befell, that she could flie no more, 
But yield herselfe to spoile of greedinesse : 
Lightly she leaped, as a wight forlore, 
From her dull horse, in desperate dis- 

tresse. 
And to her feetbetooke her doubtfull sick- 

ernesse. 

XXVI. 

Not halfe so fast the wicked Myrrha 
fled 



From dread of her revenging fathers 

bond ; 
Nor halfe so fast to save her maydenhed 
Fled fearfull Daphne on th' ^Egsean 

strond. 
As Florimell fled from that Monster 

yond, 
To reach the sea ere she of him were 

raught : 
For in the sea to drowne herselfe she 

fond, 
Rather then of the tryant to be caught : 
Thereto fear gave her wings, and need her 

corage taught. 



It fortuned (high God did so ordaine) 
As shee arrived on the roring shore, 
In minde to leape into the mighty maine, 
A little bote lay hoving her before, 
In which there slept a fisher old and pore, 
The whiles his nets were drying on the 

sand. 
Into the same shee lept, and with the ore 
Did thrust the shallop from the floting 

strand : 
So safety fownd at sea which she fownd 

not at land. 



The Monster, ready on the pray to 

sease, 
Was of his forward hope deceived quight ; 
Ne durst assay to wade the perlous seas, 
But greedily long gaping at the sight, 
At last in value was forst to turne his 

flight. 
And tell the idle tidings to his Dame : 
Yet, to avenge his divelish despight. 
He sett upon her Palfrey tired lame. 
And slew him cruelly ere any reskew 

came. 

XXIX. 

And, after having him embowelled 
To fill his hellish gorge, it chaunst a knight 
To passe that way, as forth he travelled : 
Yt w^as a goodly Swaine, and of great 

might. 
As ever man that bloody field did fight ; 
But in vain sheows, that wont yong knights 

bewitch, 
And courtly services, tooke no delight; 
But rather joyd to bee then seemen sich, 
For both to be and seeme to him was 

labor lich. •. , ,1' 

XXX. yji^ 

It was to weete the pjood Sir Satyrane, 
That raungd abrode to seeke adventures 

wilde, 
As was his wont, in forest and in plaine: 



248 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



He was all armd in rugged .Steele unfilde, 
As in the smoky forge it was compilde, 
And in his Scutchin bore a Satyres hedd. 
He comming present, where the Monster 

vilde 
Upon that milke-white Palfreyes carcas 

fedd, 
Unto his reskew ran, and greedily him 

spedd. 

XXXI. 

There well perceivd he that it was the 
horse 
Whereon faire Florimell was wont to ride, 
That of that feend was rent without re- 
morse : 
INIuch feared he least ought did ill betide 
To that faire Maide, the tlowre of wemens 

pride ; 
For her he dearely loved, and in all 
His famous conquests highly magnifide: 
Uesides, her golden girdle, which did fall 
From her in flight, he fowu'l, that did him 
sore apail. 

XXXII. 

Full of sad feare and doubtfull agony 
Fiercely he flew upon that wicked Icend, 
And with huge strokes and cruell battery 
Him forst to leave his pray, for to attend 
Him selfe from deadly daunger to defend : 
Full many wounds in his corrupted flesh 
He did engrave, and muchell blood did 

spend. 
Yet might not doe him die : but aie more 

fresh 
And fierce he still appeard, the more he 

did him thresh. 



He wist not how him to despoile of life, 
Ne how to win the wished victory, 
Sith him he saw still stronger grow 

through strife, 
And him selfe weaker through infirmity. 
Greatly he grew enrag'd, and furiously 
Hurliug his sword away he lightly lept 
Upon the beast, that with great cruelty 
Rored and raged to be underkept ; 
Yet he perforce him held, and strokes 

upon him hept. 

xxxiv. 

As he that strives to stop a suddein 

flood, 
And in strong bancks his violence enclose, 
Forceth it swell above his wonted mood, 
And largely overflow the fruitfull plaine. 
That all the conn trey seemes to be a 

Maine, 
And the rich furrowes flote, all quite for- 

donue : 



The wofull husbandman doth lowd com- 
plain e 

To see his whole yeares labor lost so 
soone, 

For which to God he made so many an 
idle boone : 



So him he held, and did through might 

amate. 
So long he held him, and him bett so long, 
That at the last his fiercenes gan abate. 
And meekely stoup unto the victor strong : 
Who, to avenge the implacable w^rong 
WHiich he supposed donne to Florimell, 
Sought by all meanes his dolor to prolong, 
Sith dint of Steele his carcas could not 

quell ; 
His maker with her charmes had framed 

him so well. 

XXXVI. 

The golden ribband, which that virgin 

wore 
About her sclender waste, he tooke in 

hand, 
And with it bownd the beast, that lowd 

did rore 
For great despight of that unwonted band, 
Yet dared not his victor to withstand, 
But trembled like a lambe fled from the 

pray ; 
And all the way him followd on the 

strand, 
As he had long bene learned to obay; 
Yet never learned he such service till that 

day. 

xxxvii. 
Thus as he led the Beast along the way, 
He spide far off a mighty Giauntesse 
Fast flying, on a Courser dapled gray, 
From a bold knight that with great 

hardinesse 
Her hard pursewd, and sought for to sup- 

presse. 
She bore before her lap a doleful! Squire, 
Lying athwart her horse in great dis- 

tresse. 
Fast bounden hand and foote with cords 

of wire, 
Whom she did meane to make the thrall 

of her desire. 



Which whenas Satyrane beheld, in haste 
He lefte his captive Beast at liberty, 
And crost the nearest way, by which he 

cast 
Her to encounter'ere she passed by ; 
But she the way shund nathemore fprthy, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE f^AERIE QUEENE. 



249 



But forward gallopt fast ; which wheu he 

spyde, 
His mighty speare he couched warily, 
And at her ran : she, haviug him descryde, 
Her selfe to light addrest, and tlirew her 

lode aside. 



Like as a Goshauke, that in foote doth 

beare 
A trembling Culver, having spideon hight 
An Eagle that with plumy wings doth 

sheare 
The subtile ayre stouping with all his 

might, 
The quarry throwes to ground with fell 

despight, 
And to the batteill doth her selfe prepare : 
So ran the Geauntesse unto the fight, 
Her fyrie eyes with furious sparkes did 

stare, 
And with blasphemous baunes high God 

in peeces tare. 



She caught in hand an huge great yron 

mace, 
Wherewith she many had of life depriv'd ; 
But, ere the stroke could seize his aymed 

place, 
His speare amids her sun-brode shield 

arriv'd : 
Yet nathemore the Steele asonder riv'd. 
All were the beame in bignes like a mast, 
Ne her out of the stedfast sadle driv'd ; 
But, glauncing on the tempred metall, 

brast 
In thousand shivers, and so forth beside 

her past. 

XLI. 

Her Steed did stagger with that puis- 

sauut strooke ; 
But she no more was moved with that 

might 
Then it had lighted on an aged Oke, 
Or on the marble Pillour that is pight 
Upon the top of Mount Olympus hight, 
For the brave youthly Champions to assay 
With burning charet wheeles it nigh to 

smite ; 
But wlio that smites it mars his joyous 

play, 
And is the spectacle of ruinous decay. 

XLII. 

Yet, therewith sore enrag'd, with sterne 
regard 
Her dreadfull weapon she to him addrest, 
AVhich on his helmet martelled so hard 
That made him low incline his lofty crest, 



And bowd his battred visour to his brest : 
Wherewith he was so stvmd thut he n'ote 

ryde. 
But reeled to and fro from east to west. 
Which when his cruell eniniy espyde, 
She lightly unto him adjoyned syde to 

syde ; 

XLIII. 

And, on his collar laying puissaunt hand, 
Out of his wavering seat him pluckt per- 

forse, 
Perforse him pluckt, unable to withstand 
Or helpe himselfe ; and layhig thwart her 

horse. 
In loathly wise like to a carrion corse, 
She bore him fast away. Which when 

the knight 
That her pursewed saw, with great re- 
morse 
He nere was touched in his noble spright, 
And gan encrease his speed as she encreast 
her flight. 

XLIV. 

Whom when as nigh approaching she 

espyde. 
She threw away her burden angrily ; 
For she list not the batteill to abide. 
But made herselfe more light away to fly : 
Yet her the hardy knight pursewd so nye 
That almost in the backe he oft her strake ; 
But still, when him at hand she did espy, 
She turnd, and semblaunce of faire tight 

did make, 
But, when he stayd, to flight againe she 

did her take. 



By this the good Sir Satyrane gan 

awake 
Out of his dreanie that did him long en- 

traunce, 
And, seeing none in jilace, he gan to make 
Exceeding mone, and curst that cruell 

chaunce 
Which reft from him so faire a chevis- 

aunce. 
At length he spyde whereas that wofull 

Squyre, 
Whom he had reskewed from captivaunce 
Of his strong foe, lay toml)led in the my re. 
Unable to arise, or foote or hand to styre. 

XLVI. 

To whom approching, well he mote 

perceive 
In that fowle plight a comely personage 
And lovely face, made fit for to deceive 
Fraile Ladies hart with loves consuming 

rage. 



250 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Now in the blossome of his freshest age. 
He reard him np and loosd his yron bauds, 
And after gan inquire his parentage, 
And how he fell into the Gyaunts hands, 
And who that was which chaced her along 
the lands. 

XLVII. 

Then trembling yet through feare the 

Squire bespake: 
* That Geauntesse Argante is behight, 
A daughter of the Titans which did make 
Warre against heven, and heaped hils on 

hight 
To scale the skyes and put Jove from his 

right : 
Her syre Typhoeus was ; who, mad 

through merth. 
And dronke with blood of men slaine by 

his might, 
Through incest her of his owne mother 

Earth 
Whylome begot, being but halfe twin of 

that berth : 

XLVIII. 

' For at that berth another Babe she 

bore ; 
To weet, the mightie Ollyphant, that 

wrought 
Great wreake to many errant knights of 

yore, 
And many hath to foule confusion 

brought. 
These twinnes, men say, (a thing far 

passing thought) 
While in their mothers wombe enclosd 

they were. 
Ere they into the lightsom world were 

brought, 
In fleshly lust were mingled both yfere, 
And in that monstrous wise did to the 

world appere. 



' So liv'd they ever after in like sin, 
Gainst natures law and good behaveoure; 
But greatest shame was to that maiden 

twin, 
Who, not content so fowly to devoure 
Her native flesh and staine her brothers 

bowre, 
Did wallow in all other fleshly myre, 
And suffred beastes her body to deflowre. 
So whot she burned in that lustfull fyi-e ; 
Yet all that might not slake her sensuall 

desyre : 

' But over all the coimtrie she did 
raunge 



To seeke young men to quench her flam- 
ing thrust, 
And feed her fancy with delightfull 

chaunge : 
Whom so she fittest findes to serve her 

lust. 
Through her maine strength, in which 

she most doth trust, 
She with her bringes into a secret He, 
Where in eternall bondage dye he must. 
Or be the vassall of her pleasures vile, 
And in all shamefull sort him selfe with 
her defile. 

LI. 

'Me, seely wretch, she so at vauntage 

caught. 
After she long in waite for me did lye. 
And meant unto her prison to have 

brought, 
Her lothsom pleasure there to satisfye ; 
That thousand deathes me lever were to 

dye 
Then breake the vow that to faire Colum- 

bell 
I plighted have, and yet keepe sted- 

fastly. 
As for my name, it mistreth not to tell : 
Call me the Squyre of Dames ; that me 

beseemeth well. 



' But that bold knight, whom ye pursu- 
ing saw 
That Geauntesse, is not such as she 

seemd , 
But a faire virgin that in martiall law 
And deedes of armes above all Dames is 

deemd. 
And above many knightes is eke esteemd 
For her great worth: She Palladine is 

hight. 
She you from death, you me from dread, 

redeemd ; 
Ne any may that Monster match in fight, 
But she, or such as she, that is so chaste 
a wight.' 

LIII. 

' Her well beseemes that Quest,' (quoth 
Satyrane) 

' But read, thou Squyre of Dames, what 
vow is this, 

Which thou upon thy selfe hast lately 
ta'ne?' 

' That shall I you recount,' (quoth he) 
' ywis. 

So be ye pleasd to pardon all amis. 

That gentle Lady whom I love and serve, 

After long suit and wearie servicis. 

Did aske me, how I could her love de- 
serve, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



251 



And how she might be sure that I would 
never swerve ? 



' I, glad by any meanes her grace to 

gaiue, 
Badd her commaund my life to save or 

spill. 
Eftsoones she badd me, with ineessaunt 

paine 
To wander through the world abroad at 

will, 
And every where, where with my power 

or skill 
I might doe service unto gentle Dames, 
That I the same should faithfully fulfill ; 
And at the twelve monethes end should 

bring their names 
And pledges, as the spoiles of my vic- 
torious games. 



* So well I to faire Ladies service did, 
And found such favour in their loving 

hartes, 

That ere the yeare his course had com- 
passid, 

Thre hundred pledges for my good 
desartes. 

And thrice three hundred thanks for my 
good partes, 

I with me brought, and did to her pre- 
sent: 

Which when she saw, more bent to eke 
my smartes 

Then to reward my trusty true intent, 

She gan for me devise a grievous punish- 
ment ; 

LVI. 

* To weet, that I my traveill should re- 

sume, 
And with like labour walke the world 

aroMTid, 
Ne ever to her presence should presume. 
Till I so many other Dames had fownd. 
The which, for all the suit I could pro- 

pownd, 
Would me refuse their pledges to afford, 
But did abide for ever chaste and sownd.' 
'Ah! gentle Squyre,' (quoth he) 'tell at 

one word, 
How many fownd 'st thou such to put in 

thy record ? ' 

LVII. 

' Indeed, Sir knight,' (said he) ' one word 

may tell 
All that I ever fownd so wisely stayd. 
For onely three they were disposd so 

well; 



And yet three yeares I now abrode have 

strayd. 
To fynd them out.' 'Mote I,' (then 

laughing sayd 
The knight) ' inquire of thee what were 

those three, 
The which thy proffred curtesie denayd ? 
Or ill they seemed sure avizd to bee. 
Or brutishly brought up, that nev'r did 

fashions see.' 



'The first which then refused me,' 
(said bee) 
' Certes was but a common Courtisane ; 
Yet flat refusd to have adoe with mee, 
Because I could not give her many a 

Jane.' 
(Thereat full hartely laughed Satyrane.) 
' The second was an holy Nunne to chose, 
Which would not let me be her Chappel- 

lane, 
Because she knew, she said, I would dis- 
close 
Her counsell, if she should her trust in 
me repose. 

LIX. 

' The third a Damzell was of low de- 
gree, 

Whom I in countrey cottage fownd by 
chaunce : 

Full litle weened I that chastitee 

Had lodging in so meane a maintenaunce ; 

Yet was she fayre, and in her counte- 
naunce 

Dwelt simple truth in seemely fashion. 

Long thus I woo'd her with due observ- 
aunce. 

In hope unto my pleasure to have won ; 

But was as far at last, as when I first 
begon. 

LX. 

' Safe her, I never any woman found 
That chastity did for it selfe embrace. 
But were for other causes firme and 

sound ; 
Either for want of handsome time and 

place, 
Or else for feare of shame and fowle dis- 
grace. 
Thus am I hopelesse ever to attaine 
My Ladies love in such a desperate case. 
But all my dayes am like to^ waste in 

vaine, 
Seeking to match the chaste with th' un- 
chaste Ladies traine.' 

LXI. 

' Perdy ' (sayd Satyrane) ' thou Squyre 
of Dames, ^ 



252 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Great labour fondly hast thou hent in 

hand, 
To get small thankes, and therewith 

many blames, 
That may amongst Alcides labours stand.' 
Thence backe returning to the former 

laud, 



Where late he left the Beast he over- 
came, 

He found him not ; for he had broke his 
band, 

And was returnd againe unto his Dame, 

To tell what tydings of fayre Florimell 
became. 



CANTO VIII. 

The "Witch creates a snowy La- 
dy like to Florimell; 

Who wrong'd by Carle, by Proteus sav'd, 
Is sought by Paridell. 



So oft as I this history record, 
My heart doth melt with meere compas- 
sion, 
To thinke how causelesse, of her owne 

accord, 
This gentle Damzell, whom I write upon, 
Should plonged be in such affliction 
Without all hope of comfort or reliefe ; 
That sure, I weene, the hardest hart of 

stone 
Would hardly finde to aggravate her 

griefe ; 
For misery craves rather mercy than 
repriefe. 

II. 

But that accursed Hag, her hostesse 

late, 
Had so enranckled her malitions hart. 
That she desyrd th' abridgement of her 

fate. 
Or long enlargement of her painefull 

smart. 
Now when the Beast, which by her 

wicked art 
Late foorth she sent, she backe retourn- 

ing spyde 
Tyde with her golden girdle ; it a part 
Of her rich spoyles whom he had earst 

destroyd 
She weend, and wondrous gladnes to her 

hart applyde. 



And, with it ronning hast'ly to her 

Sonne, 
Thought with that sight him much to 

have reliv'd 
Who, thereby deeming sure the thing as 

donne. 
His former griefe witli furie fresh reviv'd 
Much more then earst, and would have 

algates riv'd 
The hart out of his bre# : for sith her dedd 



He surely dempt, himselfe he thought 

depriv'd 
Quite of all hope wherewith he long had 

fedd 
His foolish malady, and long time had 

misledd. 



With thought whereof exceeding mad 

he grew, 
And in his rage his mother would have 

slaine. 
Had she not fled into a secret mew, 
Where she was wont her Sprightes to 

entertaiue, 
The maisters of her art: there was she 

faine 
To call them all in order to her ayde. 
And them conjure, upon eternall paine. 
To counsell her, so carefully dismayd, 
How she might heale her sonne whose 

senses were decayd. 



By their advice, and her owne wicked 

wit. 
She there deviz'd a wondrous worke to 

frame. 
Whose like on earth was never framed 

yit; 

That even Nature selfe envide the same. 
And grudg'd to see the counterfet should 

shame 
The thing it selfe: In hand she boldly 

tooke 
To make another like the former Dame, 
Another Florimell. in shape and looke 
So lively and so like, that many it mis- 

tooke. 

VI. 

The substance, Avhereof she the body 
made. 
Was purest snow in massy mould con- 
geald. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE P^AERIE QUEENE. 



253 



Which she had gathered in a shady glade 

Of the Riphoean hils, to her reveald 

By errant Sprights, but from all men 

conceald : 
The same she tenipred with fine Mercury 
And virgin wex that never yet was seald, 
And mingled them with perfect vermily ; 
That like a lively sanguine it seemd to 

the eye. 

VII. 

Instead of eyes two burning lampes'she 

set 
In silver sockets, shyning like the skyes, 
And a quicke moving Spirit did arret 
To stirre and roll them like to womens 

eyes : 
Instead of yellow lockes she did devyse 
With golden wyre to weave her curled 

head ; 
Yet golden wyre was not so yellow thryse 
As Florimells fayre heare: and, in the 

stead 
Of life, she put a Spright to rule the car- 

cas dead ; 

VIII. 

A wicked Spright, yfraught with fawn- 
ing guyle 
And fayre resemblance above all the rest, 
Which with the Prince of Darkenes fell 

somewhyle 
From heavens blis and everlasting rest : 
Him needed not instruct which way were 

best 
Him selfe to fashion likest Florimell, 
Ne how to speake, ne how to use his gest ; 
For he in counterfesaunce did excell, 
And all the wyles of wemens wits knew 
passing well. 



Him shaped thus she deckt in garments 

gay, 
Which Florimell had left behind her late ; 
That who so then her saw would surely 

say 
It was her selfe whom it did imitate. 
Or fayrer then her selfe, if ought algate 
Might fayrer be. And then she forth her 

brought 
Unto her sonne that lay in feeble state ; 
Who seeing her gan streight upstart, and 

thought 
She was the Lady selfe whom he so long 

had sought. 

X. 

Tho fast her clipping twixt his amies 
twayne, 
Extremely joyed in so happy sight, 
Andsoone forgot his former sickely payne : 



But she, the more to seeme such as she 
hight. 

Coyly rebutted his embracement light ; 

Yet still, with gentle countenaunce, re- 
tain 'd 

Enough to hold a foole in vaine delight. 

Him long she so with shadowes enter- 
tain'd. 

As her Creatresse had in charge to her 
ordain'd. 

XI. 

Till on a day, as he disposed was 
To walke the woodes with that his Idole 

faire. 
Her to disport and idle time to pas 
In th' oi^en freshnes of the gentle aire, 
A knight that way there chaunced to 

repaire ; 
Yet knight he was not, but a boastfull 

swaine 
That deedes of armes had ever in despaire, 
Proud Braggadocchio, that in vaunting 

vaine 
His glory did repose, and credit did main- 

taine. 

XII. 

He, seeing with that Chorle so faire a 
wight. 

Decked with many a costly ornament, 

Much merveiled thereat, as well he 
might. 

And thought that match a fowle dispar- 
agement : 

His bloody speare eftesoones, he boldly 
bent 

Against the silly clowne, who dead through 
feare 

Fell streight to ground in great astonish- 
ment. 

' Villein,' (sayd he) ' this Lady is my 
deare ; 

Dy, if thou it gainesay : I will away her 
beare.' 



The fearefull Chorle durst not gainesay 

nor dooe. 
But trembling stood, and yielded him the 

pray ; 
Who, finding litle leasure her to wooe 
On Tromparts steed her mounted without 

stay. 
And without reskew led her quite away. 
Proud man himselfe then Braggadochio 

deem'd, 
And next to none after that happy day, 
Being possessed of that spoyle, which 

seem'd 
The fairest wight on ground, and most of 

men esteem'^. 



254 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



XIV. 

But, Avheu hee saw him selfe free from 
poursute, 
He gau make gentle purpose to his Dame 
With termes of love aud lewdnesse disso- 
lute; 
For he could well his glozing speaches 

frame 
To such vaiue uses that him best became : 
But she thereto would lend but light 

regard, 
As seeming sory that she ever came 
Into his powre, that used her so hard 
To reave her honor, which she more then 
life prefard. 

XV. 

Thus as they two of kindnes treated 

long. 
There them by chaunce encountred on the 

way 
An armed knight upon a courser strong. 
Whose trampling feete upon the hollow 

lay 
Seemed to thunder, and did nigh affray 
That Capons corage : yet he looked grim , 
And faynd to cheare his lady in dismay. 
Who seemd for feare to quake in every 

lim. 
And her to save from outrage meekely 

prayed him. 

XVI. 

Fiercely that straunger forward came : 

and, nigh 
Approching, with bold words and bitter 

threat 
Bad that same boaster, as he mote, on 

high, 
To leave to him that lady for excheat, 
Or bide him batteill without further 

treat. 
That challenge did too peremptory seeme, 
And fild his senses with abashment 

great; 
Yet seeing nigh him jeopardy extreme, 
He it dissembled well, and light seemd to 

esteeme 

XVII. 

Saying, ' Thou foolish knight, that 

ween St with words 
To steale away that I with blowes have 

wonne, 
And brought through points of many 

perilous swords : 
But if tliee list to see thy Courser ronne, 
Or prove thy selfe, this sad encounter 

shonne. 
And seeke els without hazard of thy 

hedd.' 
At those prowd words that other knight 

begonne 



To wex exceeding wroth, and him aredd 
To turne his steede about, or sure he 
should be dedd. 

XVIII. 

* Sith then,' (said Braggadochio) ' needes 

thou wilt 
Thy dales abridge through proofe of puis- 

saunce, 
Turne we our steeds ; that both in equall 

tilt 
May meete againe, and each take happy 

chaunce.' 
This said, they both a furlongs mounten- 

aunce 
Retird their steeds, to ronne in even race; 
But Braggadochio, with his bloody launce, 
Once having turnd, no more returnd his 

face. 
But lefte his love to losse, and fled him 

selfe apace. 

XIX. 

The knight, him seeing flie, had no re- 
gard 
Him to poursew, but to the lady rode ; 
And having her from Trompart lightly 

reard. 
Upon his Courser sett the lovely lode. 
And with her fled away without abode. 
Well weened he, that fairest Florimell 
It was with whom in company he yode, 
Aud so her selfe did alwaies to him tell ; 
So made him thinke him selfe in heven 
that was in hell. 



But Florimell her selfe was far away. 
Driven to great distresse by fortune 

straunge. 
And taught the carefull Mariner to 

play, 
Sith late mischaunce had her compeld to 

chaunge 
The land for sea, at random there to 

raunge : 
Yett there that cruell Queene aven- 

geresse. 
Not satisfyde so far her to estraunge 
From courtly blis and wonted happinesse. 
Did heape on her new waves of weary 

wretchednesse. 

XXI. 

For being fled into the fishers bote 
For refuge from the Monsters cruelty. 
Long so she on the mighty maine did 

flote, 
And with the tide drove forward care- 

lesly ; 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



255 



For th' ayre was milde and cleared was 

the skie, 
And all his windes Dan Aeolus did keepe 
From stirring up their stormy enmity, 
As pittying to see her waile and weepe : 
But all the while the fisher did securely 



XXII. 

At last when droncke with drowsinesse 

he woke, 
And saw his drover drive along the 

streame, 
He was dismayd ; and thrise his hrest he 

stroke, 
For marveill of that accident extreame : 
But when he saw that blazing beauties 

beame, 
AVhich with rare light his bote did beauti- 
fy e, 
He marveild more, and thought he yet did 

dreame 
Not well awakte ; or that some extasye 
Assotted had his sence, or dazed was his 

eye. 

XXIII. 

But when her well avizing hee per- 

ceiv'd 
To be no vision nor fantasticke sight, 
Great comfort of her presence he con- 

ceiv'd. 
And felt in his old corage new delight 
To gin awake, and stir his frosen spright: 
Tho rudely askte her, how she thither 

came ? 
' Ah ! ' (sayd she) ' father, I note read 

aright 
What hard misfortune brought me to this 

same; 
Yet am I glad that here I now in safety 

ame. 

XXIV. 

' But thou, good man, sith far in sea we 

bee, 
And the great waters gin apace to swell. 
That now no more we can the mayn-land 

see. 
Have care, I pray, to guide the cock-bote 

well, 
Least worse on sea then us on land befell.' 
Thereat th' old man did nought but fondly 

grin. 
And saide his boat the way could wisely 

tell; 
But his deceiptfull eyes did never lin 
To looke on her faire face and marke her 

snowy skin. 

XXV. 

The sight whereof in his congealed flesh 
lufixt such secrete sting of greedy lust, 



That the drie withered stocke it gan re- 
fresh. 

And kindled heat that soone in flame 
forth brust : 

The driest wood is soonest burnt to dust. 

Rudely to her he lept, and his rough bond 

Where ill became him rashly would have 
thrust ; 

But she with angry scorne did him with- 
stond , 

And shamefully reproved for his rudenes 
fond. 



But he, that never good nor maners 

knew. 
Her sharpe rebuke full litle did esteeme ; y 
Hard is to teach an old herse amble trew : 
The inward smoke, that did before but 

steeme, 
Broke into open fire and rage extreme ; 
And now he strength gan adde unto his 

will, 
Foreyng to doe that did him fowle mis- 

seeme. 
Beastly he threwe her downe, ne car'd to 

spill 
Her garments gay with scales of fish that 

all did fill. 



The silly virgin strove him to withstand 
All that she might, and him in vaine 

revild : 
Shee strugled strongly both withfoote and 

hand 
To save her honor from that villaine vilde, 
And cride to heven, from humane help 

exild. 
O! ye brave knights, that boast this 

Ladies love, 
Where be ye now, when she is nigh defild 
Of filthy wretch ? well may she you re- 
prove 
Of falsehood or of slouth, when most it may 
behove. 

XXVIII. 

But if that thou, Sir Satyran, didst 

weete, 
Or thou. Sir Peridure, her sory state, 
How soone would yee assemble many a 

fleete. 
To fetch from sea that ye at land lost 

late! 
Towres, citties, kingdomes, ye would 

ruinate 
In your avengement and despiteous rage, 
Ne ought your burning fury mote abate ; 
But if Sir Calidore could it'presage, 
No living creature could his cruelty 

asswage. 



256 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



But sith that none of all her knights is 
nye, 
See how the heavens, of voluntary grace 
And soveraine favor towards chastity, 
Doe succor send to her distressed cace ; 
So much high God doth innocence em- 
brace. 
It fortuned, whilest thus she stifly strove, 
And the wide sea importuned long space 
With shrilling shriekes, Proteus abrode 

did rove. 
Along the fomy waves drivmg his finny 
drove. 

XXX. 

Proteus is Shepheard of the seas of yore. 
And hath the charge of Neptunes mighty 

heard ; 
An aged sire with head all frory hore, 
And sprinckled frost upon his deawy 

beard : 
Who when those pittifuU outcries he 

heard 
Through all the seas so ruefully resownd. 
His charett swifte in hast he thither 

steard, 
Which with a teeme of scaly Phocas 

bownd 
Was drawne upon the waves that fonied 

him arownd. 

XXXI. 

And comming to that Fishers wandring 

bote. 
That went at will withouten card or sayle. 
He therein saw that yrkesome sight, 

which smote 
Deepe indignation and compassion frayle 
Into his hart attonce : streight did he 

hayle 
The greedy villein fi'om his hoped pray, 
Of which he now did very litle fayle, 
And with his staffe, that drives his heard 

astray, 
Him bett so sore, that life and sence did 

much dismay. 

XXXII. 

The whiles the pitteous Lady up did 

ryse, 
Ruffled and fowly raid with filthy soyle, 
And blubbred face with teares of her faire 

eyes: 
Her heart nigh broken was with weary 

toyle, 
To save her selfe from that outrageous 

spoyle ; 
But when she looked up, to weet what 

wight 
Had her from so infamous fact assoyld, 



For shame, but more for feare of his grim 

sight, 
Downe in her lap she hid her face, and 

lowdly shright. 



Her selfe not saved yet from daunger 
dredd 
She thought, but chaung'd from one to 

other feare: 
Like as a fearefuU partridge, that is fledd 
From the sharpe hauke which her at- 
tached neare. 
And fals to ground to seeke for succor 

theare, 
Whereas the hungry Spaniells she does 

spye 
With greedy jawes her ready for to teare : 
In such distresse and sad perplexity 
Was Florimell, when Proteus she did see 
her by. 

XXXI v. 

But he endevored with speaches milde 
Her to recomfort, and accourage bold. 
Bidding her feare no more her foeman 

vilde. 
Nor doubt himselfe ; and who he was her 

told : 
Yet all that could not from affright her 

hold, 
Ne to recomfort her at all prevayld ; 
For her faint hart was with the frosen 

cold 
Benumbd so inly, that her wits nigh 

fayld, 
And all her sences with abashment quite 

were quayld. 



Her up betwixt his rugged hands he 

reard, 
And with his frory lips full softly kist, 
Whiles the cold ysickles from his rough 

beard 
Dropped adowne upon her yvory brest: 
Yet he him selfe so busily add rest. 
That her out of astonishment he wrought ; 
And out of that same fishers filthy nest 
Removing her, into his charet brought, 
And there with many gentle termes her 

faire besought. 

XXXVI. 

But that old leachour, which with bold 

assault 
That beautie durst presume to violate, 
He cast to punish for his hainous fault : 
Then tooke he him, yet trembling sith of 

late, 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



257 



And tyde behind his charet, to aggrate 

The virgin whom he had abusde so sore ; 

So drag'd him through the waves in scorn- 
full state, 

And after cast him up upon the shore ; 

But Florimell with him unto his bowre he 
bore. 

XXXVII. 

His bowre is in the bottom of the maine, 
Under a, mightie rocke, gainst which doe 

rave 
The roring billowes in their proud dis- 

daine, 
That with the angry working of the wave 
Therein is eaten out an hollow cave, 
That seemes rough Masons hand with 

engines keene 
Had long while laboured it to engrave : 
There was his wonne; ne living wight 

was scene 
Save one old Nymph, hight Panope, to 

keeps it cleane. 

XXXVIII. 

Thither he brought the sory Florimell, 
And entertained her the best he might, 
And Panope her entertaind eke well, 
As an imraortall mote a mortall wight, 
To winne her liking unto his delight: 
With flattering wordes he sweetly wooed 

her. 
And offered faire guiftes t' allure her 

sight ; 
But she both offers and the offerer 
Despysde, and all the fawning of the 

flatterer. 

XXXIX. 

Dayly he tempted her with this or that. 
And never suff red her to be at rest ; 
But evermore she him refused flat, 
And all his fained kindnes did detest, 
So firmely she had sealed up her brest. 
Sometimes he boasted that a God he 

hight, 
But she a mortall creature loved best : 
Then he would make him selfe a mortall 

wight ; 
But then she said she lov'd none, but a 

Faery knight. 



Then like a Faerie knight him selfe he 
drest, 
For every shape on him he could endew ; 
Then like a king he was to her exprest, 
And offred kingdoms unto her in vew. 
To be his Leman and his Lady trew : 
But when all this he nothing saw pre vaile. 
With harder meanes he cast her to 
subdew, 



And with sharpe threates her often did 

assayle ; 
So thinking for to make her stubborne 

corage quayle. 

XLI. 

To dreadfull shapes he did him selfe 

transforme ; 
Now like a Gyaunt ; now like to a feend ; 
Then like a Centaure; then like to a 

storme 
Raging within the waves: thereby he 

weend 
Her will to win unto his wished eend ; 
But when with feare, nor favour, nor with 

all 
He els could doe, he saw him selfe es- 

teemd, 
Downe in a Dongeon deepe he let her fall, 
And threatned there to make her his 

eternall thrall. 

XLII. 

Eternal! thraldome was to her more 

liefe 
Then losse of chastitie, or chaunge of 

love: 
Dye had she rather in tormenting griefe 
Then any should of falsenesse her reprove. 
Or loosenes, that she lightly did remove. 
Most vertuous virgin! glory be thy meed. 
And crowne of heaventy prayse with 

Saintes above, 
Where most sweet hymmes of this thy 

famous deed 
Are still emongst them song, that far my 

rymes exceed. 

XLIII. 

Fit song of Angels caroled to bee ! 
But yet whatso my feeble Muse can frame 
Shal'be t' advance thy goodly chastitee 
And to enroll thy memorable name 
In th' heart of every honourable Dame, 
That they thy vertuous deedes may imi- 
tate. 
And be partakers of thy endlesse fame. 
Yt yrkes me leave thee in this wofuU 

state. 
To tell of Satyrane where I him left of 
late. 



Who having ended with that Squyre of 
Dames 
A long discourse of his adventures vayne. 
The which himselfe then Ladies more de- 
fames. 
And finding not th' Hyena to be slayne, 
With that same Squyre retourned back 
againe 



258 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



To his first way. And, as they forward 

went, 
They spyde a knight f ayre pricking on the 

playne, 
As if he were on sonw adventure bent, 
And in his port appeared manly hardi- 

ment. 

XLV. 

Sir Satyrane liim towardes did addresse, 
To weet what wight lie was, and what his 

quest, 
And, comming nigh, eftsoones he gan to 

gesse, 
Both by the burning hart which on his 

brest 
He bare, and by the colours in his crest, 
That Paridell it was. Tho to him yode, 
And hira saluting as beseemed best, 
Gan first inquire of tydinges farre abrode, 
And afterwardes on what adventure now 

he rode. 

XLVI. 

Who thereto answering said : ' The ty- 
dinges bad, 
AVhich now in Faery court all men doe tell, 
Which turned hath great mirth to mourn- 
ing sad, 
Is the late mine of proud Marinell, 
And suddein parture of faire Florimell 
To find him forth : and after her are gone 
All the brave knightes that doen in armes 

excell 
To savegard her ywandred all alone : 
Emongst the rest ray lott (unworthy') is 
to be one.' 

XLVII. 

' Ahl gentle knight,' (said then Sir 

Satyrane) 
' Thy labour all is lost, I greatly dread, 
Thathast a thauklesse service on thee ta'ne, 
And off rest sacrifice unto the dead : 
For dead, I surely doubt, thou raaist aread 
Henceforth for ever Florimell to bee ; 
That all the noble knights of Maydenhead, 
Which her ador'd, may sore repent with 

mee. 
And all faire Ladies may for ever sory bee.' 

XLVIII. 

Which wordes when Paridell had heard, 

his hew 
Gan greatly chaunge and seemd dismaid 

to bee ; 
Then said : ' Fayre Sir, how may I weene 

it trew, 
That ye doe tell in such uncerteintee? 
Or speake ye of report, or did ye see 
Just cause of dread, that makes ye doubt so 

sore ? 
For, perdie, elles how mote it ever bee, 



That ever hand should dare for to engore 
Her noble blood ? The hevens such cruel- 
tie abhore.' 

XLIX. 

' These eyes did see that they will ever 

rew 
T' have seene,' (quoth he) 'when as a 

monstrous beast 
The Palfrey whereon she did travell slew, 
And of his bowels made his bloody least: 
Which speaking token sheweth at the least 
Her certeine losse, if not her sure decay : 
Besides, that more suspicion encreast, 
I found her golden girdle cast astray, 
Distaynd with durt and blood, as relique 

of the pray.' 

L. 

' Ay me ! ' (said Paridell) ' the signes be 

sadd; 
And, but God turne the same to good 

sooth-say. 
That Ladies safetie is sore to be dradd. 
Yet will I not forsake my forward way. 
Till triall doe more certeine truth bewray.' 
'Faire Sir,' (quoth he) 'well may it you 

succeed ! 
Ne long shall Satyrane behind you stay. 
But to the rest, which in this Quest proceed, 
My labour adde, and be partaker of their 

speed.' 

LI. 

' Ye noble knights,' (said then the Squyre 

of Dames) 
' Well may yee speede in so praiseworthy 

payne ! 
But sith the Sunne now ginues to slake 

his beames 
In deawy vapours of the westerne mayne, 
And lose the teme out of his weary wayne, 
Mote not mislike you also to abate 
Your zealous hast, till morrow next againe 
Both light of heven and strength of men 

relate : 
Which if ye please, to yonder castle turne 

your gate.' 

LU. 

That counsell pleased well : so all yfere 
Forth marched to a Castle them before ; 
Where soone arryving they restrained 

were 
Of ready entraunce, which ought evermore 
To errant knights be commune : wondrous 

sore 
Thereat displeasd they were, till that 

young Squyre 
Gan them in forme the cause, why that 

same dore 
Was shut to all which lodging did desyre : 
The which to let you "vyeet will further 

time requyre, 



CANTO IX. J 



THE FAERIE OUEENE. 



259 



CANTO IX. 

Malbecco will no straunge knights host, 

For peevish gealosy. 
Paridell giusts with Britomart : 

Both shew their auncestry. 



Redoubted knights, and honorable 

Dames, 
To whom I levell all my labours end. 
Right sore I feare, least with unworthie 

blames 
This odious argument my rymes should 

shend. 
Or ought your goodly patience offend. 
Whiles of a wanton Lady I doe write, 
Which with her loose incontinence doth 

blend 
The shyning glory of your soveraine light ; 
And knighthood fowle defaced by a faith- 

lesse knight. 



But never let th' ensample of the bad 
Offend the good ; for good, by paragone 
Of evill, may more notably be rad. 
As white seemes fayrer macht with blacke 

attone ; 
Ne all are shamed by the fault of one : 
For lo ! in heven, whereas all goodnes is, 
Emongst the Angels, a whole legione 
Of wicked Sprightes did fall from happy 

blis; 
What wonder then if one, of women all, 

did mis ? 



Then listen, Lordings, if ye list to weet 
The cause why Satyrane and Paridell 
Mote not be entertaynd, as seemed meet, 
Into that Castle, (as that Squyre does tell.) 
' Therein a cancred crabbed Carle does 

dwell. 
That has no skill of Court nor courtesie, 
Ne cares what men say of him, ill or well ; 
For all his dayes he drownes in privitie. 
Yet has full large to live and spend at 

libertie. 

IV. 

' But all his minde is set on mucky pelfe. 
To hoord up heapes of evill gotten masse, 
For which he others wrongs, and wreckes 

himselfe : 
Yet is he lincked to a lovely lasse, 
Whose beauty doth her bounty far sur- 

passe ; 
The which to him both far unequall yeares, 



And also far unlike conditions has; 

For she does joy to play emongst her 

peares. 
And to be free from hard restraynt and 

gealous feares. 



' But he is old, and withered like hay. 
Unfit faire Ladies service to supply ; 
The privie guilt whereof makes him alway 
Suspecther truth, and keepecontinuall spy 
Upon her with his other blincked eye ; 
Ne suffreth he resort of living wight 
Approch to her, ne keepe her company, 
But in close bowre her mewes from all 

mens sight, 
Depriv'd ofkindly joy and naturall delight. 



* Malbecco he, and Hellenore she hight; 
Unfitly yokt together in one teeme. 
That is the cause why never any knight 
Is suffred here to enter, but he seeme 
Such as no doubt of him he neede mis- 

deeme.' 
Thereat Sir Satyrane gan smyle, and say ; 
' Extremely mad the man I surely deeme, 
That weenes with watch and hard re- 
straynt to stay 
A womans will, which is disposd to go 
astray. 

VII. 

' In vaine he feares that which he cannot 

shonne ; 
For who wotes not, that w^omans subtiltyes 
Can guy len Argus, when she list misdonne ? 
It is not yron bandes, nor hundred eyes, 
Nor brasen walls, nor many wakeful 1 

spyes. 
That can withhold her wilfull wandring 

feet; 
But fast goodwill, with gentle courtesyes, 
And timely service to her pleasures meet. 
May her perhaps containe, that else woukl 

algates fleet.' 



* Then is he not more mad,' (sayd Pari- 
dell) 
That hath himselfe unto such service sold, 



26o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



In dolefull tliraldome all his dayes to 

dwell ? 
For sure a foole I doe him firmely hold, 
That loves his fetters, though they were 

of gold. 
But why doe wee devise of others ill, 
Whyles thus we suffer this same dotard 

old 
To keepe us out iu seorne of his owne will, 
And rather do not ransack all, and him 

selfe kill?' 

IX. 

' Nay, let us first ' (sayd Satyrane) ' en- 
treat 
The man by gentle nieanes to let us in. 
And afterwardes affray with eruell threat. 
Ere that we to eft'orce it doe begin : 
Then, if all fayle, we will by force it win, 
And eke reward the wretch for his nie- 

sprise. 
As may be worthy of his haynous sin.' 
That counsell pleasd : then Paridell did 

rise 
And to the Castle gate approcht in quiet 
wise. 

X. 

Whereat soft knocking entrance he de- 
syrd. 
The good man selfe, v/hich then the Por- 
ter playd. 
Him answered, that all were now retyrd 
Unto their rest, and all the keyes convayd 
Unto their maister, who in bed was layd, 
That none him durst awake out of his 

dreme ; 
And therefore them of patience gently 

prayd. 
Then Paridell began to chaunge his theme. 
And threatned him with foi*ce and punish- 
ment extreme : 



But all in vaine, for nought mote him 

relent. 
And now so long before the wicket fast 
They wayted, that the night was forward 

spent, 
And the faire welkin fowly overcast 
Gan blowen up a bitter stormy blast. 
With sliowre and hayle so horrible and 

drcd. 
That this faire many were compeld at last 
To fly for succour to a little shed. 
The which beside the gate for swyne was 

ordered. 

XII. 

It fortuned, soone after they were 
gone. 
Another knight, whom tempest thither 
brought, 



Came to that Castle, and with earnest 
mone. 

Like as the rest, late entrance deare be- 
sought : 

But, like so as the rest, he prayd for 
nought ; 

For flatly he of entrance was refusd. 

Sorely thereat he was displeased, and 
thought 

How to avenge himselfe so sore abusd. 

And evermore the Carle of courtesie ac- 
cusd. 

XIII. 

But, to avoyde th' intollerable stowre. 
He was compeld to seeke some refuge 

neare, 
And to that shed, to shrowd him from the 

show re. 
He came, which full of guests he found 

whyleare. 
So as he was not let to enter there: 
Whereat he gan to wex exceeding wroth. 
And swore that he would lodge with them 

yfere. 
Or them dislodge, all were they liefe or 

loth ; 
And so defyde them each, and so defyde 

them both. 

XIV. 

Both were full loth to leave that need- 
full tent. 
And both full loth in darkenesse to debate ; 
Yet both full liefe him lodging to have lent, 
And both full liefe his boasthig to abate : 
But chief ely Paridell his hart did grate 
To heare him threaten so despighttully. 
As if he did a dogge in kenell rate 
That durst not barke ; and rather had 

he dy 
Then, when he was defyde, in coward 
corner ly. 

XV. 

Tho hastily remounting to his steed 
He forth issew'd : like as a boystrous 

winde, 
Which in th' earthes hollow caves hath 

long ben hid 
And shut up fast within her prisons blind, 
Makes the huge element, agahist her 

kinde, 
To move and tremble as it were aghast, 
Untill that it an issew forth may finde: 
Then forth it breakes, and with his furi- 
ous blast 
Confounds both land and seas, and skyes 
doth overcast. 



Their steel-hed si)eares they strongly 
coucht, and met 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



26 



Together with impetuous rage aud forse, 
Tliat with the terrour of their fierce aft'ret 
Tliey rudely drove to ground both mau 

and horse, 
That each awhile lay like a sencelesse corse. 
But Paridell sore brused with the blow 
Could not arise the counterchauuge to 

scorse, 
Till that young Squyre him reared from 

below ; 
Then drew he his bright sword, and gan 

about him throw. 

XVII. 

But Satyrane forth stepping did them 
stay, 

And with faire treaty pacifide their yre. 

Then, when they were accorded from the 
fray. 

Against that Castles Lord they gan con- 
spire, 

To heape on him dew vengeaunce for hitr 
hire. 

They beeue agreed ; and to the gates they 
goe 

To burn the same with unquenchable fire. 

And that uncurteous Carle, their com- 
mune foe, 

To doe fowle death to die, or wrap in 
grievous woe. 



Malbecco, seeing them resolvd indeed 
To riame the gates, and hearing them to 

call 
For fire in earnest, ran with fearful! speed, 
And to them calling from the castle wall, 
Besought them humbly him to beare 

withall. 
As ignorant of servants bad abuse 
And slacke attendaunce unto straungers 

call. 
The knights were willing all things to ex- 
cuse. 
Though nought belev'd, and entraunce 
late did not refuse. 

XIX. 

They beene ybrought into a comely 

bowre, 
And servd of all things that mote needf ull 

bee; 
Yet secretly their hoste did on them lowre, 
And welcomde more for feare then char- 

itee ; 
But they dissembled what they did not 

see, 
And welcomed themselves. Each gan 

undight 
Their garments wett, and weary armour 

free, 



To dry them selves by Vulcanes flaming 

light, 
And eke their lately bruzed parts to 

bring in plight. 



And eke that straunger knight emougst 

the rest 
Was for like need enforst to disaray : 
Tho, wheuas vailed was her lofty crest. 
Her golden locks, that were in trammells 

gay 
Upbounden, did them selves adowne dis- 
play 
And raught unto her heeles ; like sunny 

beanies, 
That in a cloud their light did long time 

stay, 
Their vapour vaded, shewe their golden 

gleames, 
And through the persant aire shoote forth 

their azure streames. 



Shee also dofte her heavj^ haberjeon, 
Which the faire feature of her limbs did 

hyde ; 
And her well-plighted frock, which she 

did won 
To tucke about her short when she did 

ryde, 
Shee low let fall, that flowd from her 

lanck syde 
Downe to her foot with earelesse modestee. 
Then of them all she plainly was espyde 
To be a woman-wight, unwist to bee. 
The fairest woman-wight that ever eie 

did see. 



Like as Bellona (being late returnd 
From slaughter of the Giaunts conquered ; 
Where proud Encelade, whose wide nose- 

thrils burnd 
With breathed flames, like to a furnace 

redd. 
Transfixed with her speare downe tombled 

dedd 
From top of Hemus by him heaped hye ;) 
Hath loosd her helniet from her lofty 

hedd, 
And her Gorgonian shield gins to untye 
From her lefte arme, to rest in glorious 

victory e. 

XXIII. 

Which whenas they beheld, they smit- 
ten were 
With great amazement of so wondrous 

sight ; 
And each on other, and they all on her. 
Stood gazing, as if suddein great affright 



262 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 111. 



Had them surprizd. At last, aviziug right 
Her goodly personage and glorious hew, 
Which they so much mistooke, they tooke 

delight 
In their first error, and yett still anew 
With wonder of her beauty fed their 

hongry vew. 



Yet note their hongry vew be satisfide, 
But seeing still the more desir'd to see, 
And ever firmely fixed did abide 
In contemplation of divinitee : 
But most they mervaild at her ehevalree 
And noble prowesse, which they had 

approv'd, 
That much they fayiid to know who she 

mote bee ; 
Yet none of all them her thereof amov'd 
Yet every one her likte, and every one 

her lov'd. 

XXV. 

And Paridell, though partly discontent 
With his late fall and fowle indignity, 
Yet was soone wonne his malice to relent. 
Through gratious regard of her faire eye, 
And knightly worth which he too late did 

try, 
Yet tried did adore. Supper was dight; 
Then they Malbecco prayd of courtesy. 
That of his lady they might have the sight 
And company at meat, to doe them more 

delight. 

XXVI. 

But he, to shifte their curious request, 
Gan causen why she could not come in 

place ; 
Her erased helth, her late recourse to rest, 
And humid evening ill for sicke folkes 

cace ; 
But none of those excuses could take place, 
Ne would they eate till she in presence 

came. 
Shee came in presence with right comely 

grace. 
And fairely them saluted, as became, 
And shewd her selfe in all a gentle courte- 
ous Dame. 

xxvii. 

They sate to meat; and Satyrane his 

chaunce 
Was her before, and Paridell beside ; 
But he him selfe sate looking still 

askaunce 
Gainst Britomart, and ever closely eide 
Sir Satyrane, that glaunces might not 

glide : 
But his blinde eie, that sided Paridell, 
All his demeasnure from his sight did 

hide : I 



On her faire face so did he feede his fill. 
And sent close messages of love to her at 
will. 

xxviii. 

And ever and anone, when none was 
ware. 
With speaking lookes, that close em- 
bassage bore, 
He rov'd at her, and told his secret care 
For all that art he learned had of yore ; 
Ne was she ignoraunt of that lend lore. 
But in his eye his meaning wisely redd, 
And with the like him aunswerd ever- 
more. 
Shee sent at him one fyrie dart, whose 

hedd 
Empoisoned was with privy lust and 
gealous dredd. 

XXIX. 

He from that deadly throw made no 

defence, 
But to the wound his weake heart opened 

vryde : 
The wicked engine through false influence 
Past through his eies, and secretly did 

glyde 
Into his heart, which it did sorely gryde. 
But nothing new to him was that same 

paine, 
Ne paine at all ; for he so ofte had tryde 
The powre thereof, and lov'd so oft in 

vaine, 
That thing of course he counted love to 

entertaine. 

XXX. 

Thenceforth to her he sought to inti- 
mate 
His inward griefe, by meanes to him well 

knowne : 
Now Bacchus fruit out of the silver plate 
He on the table dasht, as overthrowne. 
Or of the fruitf nil liquor overflowne ; 
And by the dauncing bubbles did divine. 
Or therein write to lett his love be 

shown e ; 
Which well she redd out of the learned 

line : 
A sacrament prophane in mistery of 
wine. 

XXXI. ^ 

And, when so of his hand the pledge 

she raught. 
The guilty cup she fained to mistake. 
And in her lap did shed her idle draught, 
Shewing desire her inward flame to slake. 
But such close signes they secret way did 

make 
Unto their wils, and one eies watch 

escape : 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



263 



Two eies him needeth, for to watch and 

wake, 
Who lovers will deceive. Thus was the 

ape, 
By their faire handling, put into Mal- 

beccoes cape. 

XXXII. 

Now, when of meats and drinks they 

had their fill, 
Purpose was moved by that gentle Dame 
Unto those knights adventurous, to tell 
Of deeds of armes which unto them 

became, 
And every one his kindred and his name. 
Then Paridell, in whom a kindly pride 
Of gratious speach and skill his words to 

frame 
Abounded, being glad of so fitte tide 
Him to commend to her, thus spake, of 

al well eide. 

XXXIII. 

' Troy, that art now nought but an idle 

name, 
And in thine ashes buried low dost lie, 
Though whilome far much greater then 

thy fame. 
Before that angry Gods and cruell skie 
Upon thee heapt a direfull destinie ; 
AV'hat boots it boast thy glorious descent. 
And fetch from heven thy great genealogie, 
Sith all thy worthie prayses being blent 
Their ofspring hath embaste, and later 

glory shent? 

XXXIV. 

' Most famous Worthy of the world, by 

whome 
That warre was kindled which did Troy 

inflame, 
And stately towres of Illon whilome 
Brought unto balefull mine, was byname 
vSir Paris far renowmd through noble 

fame ; 
Who, through great prow^esse and bold 

hardinesse, 
From Lacedsemon fetcht the fayrest 

Dame 
That ever Greece did boast, or knight 

possesse, 
Whom Venifll to him gave for meed of 

worthinesse ; 

XXXV. 

' Fay re Helene, flowre of beautie excel- 
lent, 
And girlond of the mighty Conquerours, 
That madest many Ladies deare lament 
The heavie losse of their brave Para- 
mours, 



Which they far off beheld from Trojan 

toures. 
And saw the fieldes of faire Scamander 

strowne 
With carcases of noble warrioures 
Whose fruitlesse lives were under furrow 

sowne, 
And Xanthus sandy bankes with blood 

all overflowne. 



' From him my linage I derive aright, 
Who long before the ten yeares siege of 

Troy, 
Whiles yet on Ida he a shepeheard bight, 
On faire Oenone got a lovely boy. 
Whom, for remembrance of her passed 

joy. 
She, of his Father, Parius did name; 
Who, after Greekes did Priam s realme 

destroy, 
Gathred the Trojan reliques sav'd from 

flame. 
And with them sayling thence to th' isle 

of Paros came. 

XXXVII. 

' That was by him cald Paros, which 

before 
Hight Nausa: there he many yeares did 

raine, 
And built Nausicle by the Pontick shore; 
Tlie whicli be dying lefte next in remaine 
To Paridas his sonne, 
From whom I Paridell by kin descend : 
But, for faire ladies love and glories 

gaine. 
My native soile have lefte, my dayes to 

spend 
In seewing deeds of armes, my lives and 

labors end.' 



Whenas the noble Britomart heard tell 
Of Trojan warres and Priams citie sackt, 
The ruefull story of Sir Paridell, 
She was empassioned at that piteous act, 
With zelous envy of Greekes cruell fact 
Against that nation, from whose race of 

old 
She heard that she was lineally extract; 
For noble Britons sprong from Trojans 

bold, 
And Troynovant was built of old Troyes 

ashes cold. 

XXXIX. 

Then, sighing soft awhile, at last she 
thus : 
' lamentable fall of famous towne ! 



264 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Which raignd so many yeares victorious, 
And of all Asie bore the soveraine crowne, 
In one sad night consumd and throwen 

dowue : 
What stony hart, that heares thy haplesse 

fate, 
Is not empierst with deepe compassiowne, 
And makes ensample of mans wretched 

state, 
That floures so fresh at morue, and fades 

at evening late ? 

XL. 

' Behold, Sir, how your pitifull com- 
plaint 

Hath fowndanotherpartnerof yourpayne ; 

For nothing may impresse so deare con- 
straint 

As countries cause, and commune foes 
disdayne. 

But if it should not grieve you backe 
agayne 

To turne your course, I would to heare 
desyre 

What to Aeneas fell ; sith that men sayne 

He was not in the cities wofull tyre 

Consum'd, but did him selfe to safety 
retyre.' 

XLI. 

' Anchyses sonne, begott of Venus fay re, ' 
Said he, 'out of the flames for safegard 

fled. 
And with a remnant did to sea repayre ; 
Where he through fa tall errour long was 

led 
Full many yeares, and weetlesse wandered 
From shore to shore emongst the Lybick 

sandes, 
Ere rest he fownd. Much there he 

suffered. 
And many perilles past in forreine landes. 
To save his people sad from victours 

vengeful! handes. 



' At last in Latium he did arryve, 
AVhere he with cruell warre was enter- 

taind 
Of th' inland folke, which sought him 

backe to drive, 
Till he with old Latinus was constraind 
To contract wedlock, (so the fates ordaind) 
Wedlocke contract in blood, and eke in 

blood 
Accomplished, that many deare com- 

plaind : 
The rivall slaine, the victour, through the 

flood 
Escaped hardly, hardly praisd his wed- 
lock good. 



XLIII. 

' Yet, after all, he victour did survive. 
And with Latinus did the kingdom part ; 
But after, when both nations gan to 

strive 
Into their names the title to convart, 
His Sonne liilus did from thence depart 
With all the warlike youth of Trojans 

blond. 
And in long Alba plast his throne apart ; 
Where faire it florished and long time 

stoud. 
Till Romulus, renewing it, to Rome 

remoud.' 

XLIV. 

* There ; there,' (said Britomart) * afresh 

appeard 
The glory of the later world to spring, 
And Troy againe out of her dust was reard 
To sitt in second seat of soveraine king 
Of all the world, under her governing. 
But a |third kingdom yet is to arise 
Out of the Trojans scattered of spring, 
That in all glory and great enterprise. 
Both first and second Troy shall dare to 

equalise. 

XLV. 

' It Troynovant is hight, that with the 

waves 
Of wealthy Thamis washed is along. 
Upon whose stubborne neck, (whereat he 

raves 
With roring rage, and sore him selfe 

does throng) 
That all men feare to tempt his billowes 

strong. 
She fastned hath her foot ; which stands 

so hy, 
That it a wonder of the world is song 
In forreine landes ; and all which passen by. 
Beholding it' from farre, doe thinke it 

threates the skye. 

XLVI. 

'The Trojan Brute did first that citie 
fownd. 
And Hygate made the meare thereof by 

AVest, 
And Overt gate by North : that is the 

bownd 
Toward the land ; two rivers bownd the 

rest. 
So huge a scope at first him seemed best. 
To be the compasse of his kingdomes seat : 
So huge a mind could not in lesser rest, 
Ne in small meares containe his glory 

great. 
That Albion had conquered first by war- 
like feat.' 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



265 



'Ah! fairest Lady knight,' (said Pari- 

dell) 
' Pardon, I pray, my heedlesse oversight, 
Who had forgot that whylome I heard tell 
From aged JVinemon ; for my wits beene 

light. 
Indeed he said, (if I remember right) 
That of the antique Trojan stocke there 

grew 
Another plant, that raught to wondrous 

hight. 
And far abroad his mightie braunches 

threw 
Into the utmost Angle of the world he 

knew. 

XLVIII. 

* For that same Brute, whom much he 

did advaunce 
In all his speaeh, was Sylvius his sonne. 
Whom having slahi through luckles 

arrowes glaunce, 
He tied for teare of that he had mis- 

donne, 
Or els for shame, so fowle reproch to 

shonne, 
And with him ledd to sea an youthly 

trayne ; 
Wliere wearie wandring they long time 

did woune. 
And many fortunes prov'd in th' Ocean 

mayne. 
And great adventures found, that now 

were long to sayne. 



'At last by fatall course they driven 

were 
Into an Island spatious and brode. 
The furthest North that did to them 

appeare : 
Which, after rest, they, seeking farre 

abrode. 
Found it the fittest soyle for their abode, 
Fruitfnll of all thiuges'fitt for living foode. 
But wholy waste and void of peoples trode, 
Save an huge nation of the Geaunts broode 
That fed on living flesh, and dronck mens 

vitall blood. 



' AVhom he, through wearie wars and 
labours long, 
Subdewd with losse of many Britons bold : 



In which the great Goeniagot of strong 
Coriueus. and Coulin of Debon old. 
Were overthrowne and laide on th' earth 

full cold. 
Which quaked under their so hideous 

masse ; 
A famous history to bee enrold 
In everlasting moniments of brasse, 
That all the antique Worthies merits far 

did passe. 

LI. 

' His worke great Troynovant, his worke 

is eke 
Faire Lincolne, both renowmed far away ; 
That who from East to West will endlong 

seeke. 
Cannot two fairer Cities find this day. 
Except Cleopolis : so heard I say 
Old Muenion. Therefore, Sir, I greet you 

well 
Your couutrey kin ; and you entyrely pray 
Of pardon for the strife, which late befell 
Betwixt us both unknowne.' So ended 

Paridell. 

LII. 

But all the while that he these speeches 

spent. 
Upon his lips hong faire Dame Hellenore 
With vigilant regard and dew attent. 
Fashioning worldes of fancies evermore 
In her fraile witt, that now her quite for- 

lore : 
The whiles unwares away her wondring 

eye 
And greedy eares her weake hart from 

her bore ; 
W' hich he perceiving, ever privily. 
In speaking many false belgardes at her 

let fly. 

LIII. 

So long these knights discoursed diversly 
Of strannge affaires, and noble hardiment, 
Which they had past with mickle jeopardy. 
That now the humid night was farforth 

spent, 
And hevenly lampes were halfendeale 

ybrent : 
WHiich th' old man seeing wel, who too 

long thought 
Every discourse", and every argument. 
Which by the houres he measured, be- 
sought 
Them go to rest. So all unto their bowres 
were brought. 



266 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



CANTO X. 

Paridell rapeth Hellenore : 

Malbecco her poursewes ; 
Fynds emongst Satyres, whence with him 

To turue she doth refuse. 



The morow next, so soone as Phoebus 

Lamp 
Bewrayed had the world with early light, 
And fresh Aurora had the shady dump 
Out of the goodly heveu amoved quight, 
Faire Britomart aud that same Faery 

kuight 
Uprose, forth on their journey for to 

wend : 
But Paridell complaynd, that his late 

fight 
With Britomart so sore did him offend, 
That ryde he could not, till his hurts he 

did amend. 

II. 

So foorth they far'd ; but he behind 

them stayd, 
Maulgre his host, who grudged grievously 
To house a guest that would be needes 

obayd. 
And of his owne him lefte not liberty : 
Might wanting measure moveth surquedry. 
Two things he feared, but the third was 

death ; 
That fiers youngmans unruly maystery ; 
His money, which he lov'd as living 

breath ; 
And his faire wife, whom honest long he 

kept uneath. 



But patience perforce, he must able 
What fortune and his fate on him will 

lay; 
Fond is the feare that findes no remedie : 
Yet warily he watcheth every way, 
By which he feareth evil! happen may; 
So th' evill thiukes by watching to prevent : 
Ne doth he suffer her, nor night nor day, 
Out of his sight her selfe once to absent : 
So doth he punish her, and eke him selfe 

torment. 

IV. 

But Paridell kept better watch then hee, 
A fit occasion for his turne to finde. 
False love ! why do men say thou canst 

not see, 
And in their foolish fancy feigne thee 

blinde, 



That with thy charmes the sharpest sight 

doest binde. 
And to thy will abuse? Thou walkest 

free. 
And seest every secret of the minde ; 
Thou seest all, yet none at all sees thee: 
All that is by the working of thy Deitee. 



So perfect in that art was Paridell, 
That he Malbeccoes halfen eye did wyle ; 
His halfen eye he wiled wondrous well, 
And Hellenors both eyes did eke beguyle. 
Both eyes and hart "attonce, during the 

whyle 
That he there sojourned his woundes to 

heale ; 
That Cupid selfe, it seeing, close did smyle 
To weet how he her love away did steale. 
And bad that none their joyous treason 

should reveale. 



The learned lover lost no time nor tyde 
That least a vantage mote to him afford, 
Yet bore so faire a sayle, that none espyde 
His secret drift, till he her layd abord. 
When so in open place and commune bord 
He fortun'd her to meet, with commune 

speach 
He courted her : yet bayted every word , 
That his ungentle hoste li'ote him appeach 
Of vile ungentlenesse, or hospitagesbreach. 



But when apart (if ever her apart) 
He found, then his false engins fast he 

plyde. 
And all the sleights unbosomdinhishart : 
He sigh'd, he sobd, he swownd, he perdy 

dyde, 
And cast himselfe on ground her fast 

besyde : 
Tho, when againe he him bethought to 

live, 
He wept, and wayld, and false laments 

belyde, 
Saying, but if she Mercie would him give. 
That he mote algates dye, yet did his 

death forgive. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



267 



Aud otlierwhyles with amorous delijuhts 
And pleasing toyes he would her enter- 

taine ; 
Now singing sweetly to surprize her 

sprights, 
Now making layes of love and lovers 

paine, 
Bransles, Ballads, virelayes, and verses 

vaine ; 
Oft purposes, oft riddles, he devysd, 
And thousands like which flowed in his 

braine, 
With which he fed her fancy, and entysd 
To take to his new love, and leave her 

old despysd. 

IX. 

And every where he might, and everie 

while, 
He did her service dewtifull, and sewd 
At hand with humble pride and pleasing 

guile; 
So closely yet, that none but she it vewd, 
Who well perceived all, and all indewd. 
Thus finely did he his false nets dispred. 
With which he many weake harts had 

subdewd 
Of yore, and many had ylike misled : 
What wonder then, if she were likewise 

carried ? 

X. 

No fort so fensible, no wals so strong. 
But that continuall battery will rive. 
Or daily siege, through dispurvayaunce 

long 
And lacke of reskewes, will to parley 

drive ; 
And Peece, that unto parley eare will 

give. 
Will shortly yield it selfe, and will be 

made 
The vassall of the victors will byli ve : 
That stratageme had oftentimes assayd 
This crafty Paramoui-e, and now it plaine 

display'd : 

XI. 

For through his traines he her in trapped 

hath. 
That she her love and hart hath wholy sold 
To him, without regard of gaine or scath. 
Or care of credite, or of husband old, 
Whom she hath vow'd to dub a fayre 

Cucquold. 
Nought wants but time and place, which 

shortly shee 
Devized hath, and to her lover told. 
It pleased well : So well they both agree : 
So readie rype to ill ill weraens counsels 

bee! 



Darke was the Evening, fit for lovers 

stealtli. 
When chaunst Malbecco busie be else- 
where, 
She to his closet went, where all his 

wealth 
Lay hid ; thereof she countlesse summes 

did reare. 
The which she meant away with her to 

beare ; 
The rest she fyr'd, for sport, or for de- 

spight : 
As Hellene, when she saw aloft appeare 
The Trojane flames and reach to hevens 

bight, 
Did clap her hands, and joyed at that 

dolefull sight. 



This second Helene, fayre Dame Hel- 

lenore, 
The whiles her husband ran with sory 

haste 
To quench the flames which she had 

tyn'd before, 
Laught at his foolish labour spent in 

waste, 
And ran into her lovers amies right fast ; 
Where streight embraced she to him did 

cry 
And call alowd for helpe, ere helpe were 

past ; 
For lo! that Guest did beare her forcibly, 
And meant to ravish her, that rather had 

tody. 

XIV, 

The wretched man hearing her call for 

ayd. 
And ready seeing him with her to fly. 
In his disquiet mind was much dismayd : 
But v/hen againe he backeward cast his 

eye, 
And saw the wicked fire so furiously 
Consume his hart, and scorch his Idoles 

face, 
He was therewith distressed diversely, 
Ne wist he how to turne, nor to what 

place : 
Was never wretched man in such a wofull 



Ay when to him she cryde, to her he 
turnd, 
And left the fire ; love money overcame : 
But, when he marked how his money 

burnd. 
He left his wife; money did love dis- 
clame : 



268 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



Both was he loth to loose his loved Dame, 
And loth to leave his liefest pelfe be- 

hinde ; 
Yet, sith he n'ote save both, he sav'd that 

same 
Which was the dearest to his dounghill 

minde, 
The God of his desire, the joy of misers 

blinde. 

XVI. 

Thus whilest all things in troublous up- 

rore were, 
And all men busie to suppresse the flame. 
The loving couple neede no reskew feare. 
But leasure had and liberty to frame 
Their purpost flight, free from all mens 

reclame ; 
And Night, the patronesse of love-stealth 

fay re, 
Gave them safe conduct, till to end they 

came. 
So beene they gone yfere, a wanton pay re 
Of lovers loosely knit, where list them to 

repay re. 



Soone as the cruell flames yslaked 

were, 
Malbecco, seeing how his losse did lye, 
Out of the flames which he had quencht 

whylere, 
Into huge waves of griefe and gealosye 
Full deepe emplonged was, and drowned 

nye 
Twixt inward doole and felonous de- 

spight : 
He rav'd, he wept, he stampt, he lowd did 

cry, 
And all the passions that in man may 

light 
Did him attonce oppresse, and vex his 

caytive spright. 

XVIII. 

Long thus he chawd the cud of inward 
griefe, 

And did consume his gall with anguish 
sore : 

Still when he mused on his late mischiefe. 

Then still the smart thereof increased 
more, 

And seemd more grievous then it was 
before. 

At last when sorrow he saw booted 
nought, 

Ne griefe might not his love to him re- 
store. 

He gan devise how her he reskew mought : 

Ten thousand wayes he cast in his con- 
fused thought. 



At last resolving, like a Pilgrim pore. 
To search her forth where so she might 

be fond, 
And bearing with him treasure in close 

store, 
The rest he leaves in ground : So takes in 

bond 
To seeke her endlong both by sea and 

lond. 
Long he her sought, he sought her far 

and nere. 
And every where that he mote under- 

stoud 
Of knights and ladies any meetings 

were; 
And of each one he mett he tidings did 

inquere. 

XX. 

But all in vaine: his woman was too 

wise 
Ever to come into his clouch againe, 
And bee too simple ever to surprise 
The jolly Paridell, for all his paine. 
One day, as bee forpassed by the plaine 
With weary pace, he far away espide 
A couple, seeming well to be his twaine, 
Which hoved close under a forest side, 
As if they lay in wait, or els them selves 

did hide. 



Well weened hee that those the same 

mote bee ; 
And as he better did their shape avize. 
Him seemed more their maner did 

agree ; 
For th' one was armed all in warlike 

wize, 
Whom to be Paridell he did devize ; 
An th' other, al yclad in garments light 
Discolourd like to womanish disguise. 
He did resemble to his lady bright ; 
And ever his faint hart much earned at 

the sight : 

XXII. 

And ever faine he towards them would 
goe, 
But yet durst not for dread approchen 

nie, 
But stood aloofe, unweeting what to doe ; 
Till that prickt forth with loves ex- 
tremity 
That is the father of fowle gealosy, 
He closely nearer crept the truth to weet : 
But, as he niglier drew, he easily 
Might scerne that it was not his sweetest 

sweet, 
Ne yet her Belamour, the partner of his 
sheet: 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



269 



XXIII. 

But it was sconiefull Braggadocbio, 
That with his servant Trompart hoverd 

there, 
Sith late he fled from his too earnest foe : 
Whom such wheuas Malbecco spyed 

clere, 
He turned backe, and would have fled 

arere, 
Till Trompart, ronning hastely, him did 

stay, 
And bad before his soveraiue Lord ap- 

pere. 
That was him loth, yet durst he not 

gainesay, 
And comming him before low louted on 

the lay. 

XXIV. 

The Boaster at him sternely bent his 

browe, 
As if he could have kild him with his 

looke. 
That to the ground him meekely made to 

bo we, 
And awfull terror deepe into him strooke, 
That every member of his body quooke. 
Said he, 'Thou man of nought, what 

doest thou here 
Unfitly furnisht with thy bag and booke, 
"Where I expected one with shield and 

spere 
To prove some deeds of armes upon an 

equall pere ? ' 



The wretched man at his imperious 

speach 
"Was all abasht, and low prostrating said : 
'Good Sir, let not my rudenes be no 

breach 
Unto your patience, ne be ill ypaid ; 
For I unwares this way by fortune straid, 
A silly Pilgrim driven to distresse. 
That seeke a Lady' — There he suddein 

staid, 
And did the rest with grievous sighes 

suppresse. 
While teares stood in his eies, few drops 

of bitternesse. 



'What Lady, man ?' (said Trompart) 

' take good hart, 
And tell thy griefe, if any hidden lye : 
Was never better time to shew thy smart 
Then now that noble succor is thee by. 
That is the whole worlds commune 

remedy.' 
That chearful word his weak heart much 

did cheare, 



And with vaine hope his spirits faint 

supply, 
Tbat bold he sayd ; ' O most redoubted 

Pere ! 
Vouchsafe with mild regard a wretches 

cace toheare.' 



Then sighing sore, ' It is not long,' 

(saide hee) 
' Sith I enjoyd the gentlest Dame alive ; 
Of whom a knight, no knight at all 

perdee. 
But shame of all that doe for honor 

strive, 
By treacherous deceipt did me deprive : 
Through open outrage he her bore away, 
And with fowle force unto his Avill did 

drive ; 
Which al good knights, that armes doe 

bear this day. 
Are bownd for to revenge, and punish if 

they may. 



'And you, most noble Lord, that can 

and dare 
Redresse the wrong of miserable wight. 
Cannot employ your most victorious 

speare 
In better quarell then defence of right. 
And for a Lady gainst a faithlesse 

knight : 
So shall your glory bee advaunced much, 
And all faire Ladies magnify your might, 
And eke my selfe, albee I simple such. 
Your worthy paine shall wel reward with 

guerdon rich.' 



With that out of his bouget forth he 
drew 
Great store of treasure, therewith him to 

tempt; 
But he on it lookt scornefully askew, 
As much disdeigning to be so misdempt, 
Or a war-monger to be basely nempt ; 
And sayd ; ' Thy offers base I greatly 

loth, 
And eke thy words uncourteous and un- 
kempt : 
I tread in dust thee and thj* money both, 
That, were it not for shame ' — So turned 
from him wroth. 



But Trompart, that his maistres humor 
knew 
In lofty looks to hide an humble minde, / 
Was inly tickled with that golden vew./ 



270 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[rook III. 



And in his eare him rownded close he- 

hinde : 
Yet stoupt he not, but lay still in the 

wiude, 
Waiting advauntage on the pray tosease, 
Till Trompart, lowly to the grownd in- 

clinde, 
Besought him his great corage to appease, 
And pardon simple man that rash did him 

displease. 

XXXI. 

Big looking like a doughty Doucepere, 

At last he thus ; ' Thou clod of vilest 
clay, 

I pardon yield, and with thy rudenes 
beare ; 

But weete henceforth, that all that golden 
pray, 

And all that els the value world vaunten 
may, 

I loath as doung, ne deeme my dew re- 
ward : 

Fame is my meed, and glory vertues pay : 

But minds of mortall men are muchell 
mard 

And mov'd amisse with massy mucks un- 
meet regard. 

XXXII. 

' And more : I graunt to thy great 

misery 
Gratious respect ; thy wife shall backe be 

sent: 
And that vile knight, who ever that he 

bee, 
Which hath thy lady reft and knighthood 

shent, 
By Sanglamort my sword, whose deadly 

dent 
The blood hath of so many thousands 

shedd, 
I sweare, ere long shall dearely it repent ; 
Ne he twixt heven and earth shall hide 

his hedd. 
But soone he shal be fownd, and shortly 

doen be dedd.' 

XXXIII. 

The foolish man thereat woxe wondrous 

blith, 
As if the word so spoken were halfe donne. 
And humbly thanked him a thousand sith 
That had from death to life him newly 

wonne, 
Tho forth the Boaster marching brave 

begonne 
His stolen steed to thunder furiously. 
As if he heaven and hell would over-ronne. 
And all the woi-ld confound with cruelty : 
That much Malbecco joyed in his jollity. 



XXXIV. 

Thus long they three together travelled, 

Through many a wood and many an un- 
couth way, 

To seeke his wife that was far wandered : 

But those two sought nought but the 
present pray, 

To weete, the treasure which he did be- 
wray, 

On which their eies and harts were wholly 
sett, 

With purpose how they might it best be- 
tray; 

For, sith the howre that first he did 
them left 

The same behold, therwith their keene 
desires were whett. 



It fortuned, as they together far'd, 
They spide where Paridell came pricking 

fast 
Upon the plaine ; the which him selfe 

prepar'd 
To guist with that brave straunger knight 

a cast, 
As on adventure by the way he past. 
Alone he rode without his Paragone ; 
For, having filcht her bells, her up he cast 
To the wide world, and lett her lly alone : 
He nould be clogd. So had he served 

many one. " 

XXXVI. 

The gentle Lady, loose at randon lefte, 
The greene-wood long did walke, and 

wander wide 
At wilde adventure, like a forlorne wefte ; 
Till on a day the Satyres her espide 
Straying alone withouten groome or 

guide : 
Her up they tooke, and with them home 

her ledd, 
With them as houscAvife ever to abide, 
To milk their gotes and make them cheese 

and bredd ; 
And every one as commune good her 

handeled : 

XXXVII. 

That shortly she Malbecco has forgott, 
And eke Sir Paridell, all were he deare; 
Who from her went to seeke another lott. 
And now by fortune was arrived here. 
Where those two guilers with Malbecco 

were. 
Soone as the old man saw Sir Paridell, 
He fainted, and was almost dead with 

feare, 
Ne word he had to speake his griefe to 

tell. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



271 



But to him louted low, and greeted goodly 
well ; 

XXXVIII. 

Aiid, after, asked him for Hellenore : 
' I take no keepe of her,' (sayd Paridell) 
' She wonneth in theforrest there before.' 
So forth he rode as his adventure fell ; 
The whiles the Boaster from his loftie sell 
Faynd to alight, something amisse to 

mend ; 
But the fresh Swayne would not his lea- 
sure dwell. 
But went his way : whom when he passed 

kend, 
He up remounted light, and after faind to 
wend. 

XXXIX, 

* Perdy, nay,' (said Malbecco) ' shall ye 

not; 
But let him passe as lightly as he came : 
For litle good of him is to be got. 
And iniekle perill to bee put to shame. 
But let us goe to seeke my dearest Dame, 
Whom he hath left in yonder forest wyld ; 
For of her safety in great doubt I ame. 
Least salvage beastes her person have de- 

spoyld : 
Then all the world is lost, and we in vaine 

have toyld.' 

XL. 

They all agree, and forward them ad- 

dresse : 
'Ah! but,' (said crafty Trompart) ' weete 

ye well. 
That yonder in that wastefull wildernesse 
Huge monsters haunt, and many dangers 

dwell : 
Dragons, and Minotaures, and feendes of 

hell, 
And many wilde woodmen which robbe 

and rend 
All travellers : therefore advise ye well 
Before ye enterprise that way to wend : 
One may his journey bring too soone to 

evill end.' 

XLI. 

Malbecco stopt in great astonishment, 
And with pale eyes fast lixed on the rest, 
Their counsell crav'd in daunger immi- 
nent. 
Said Trompart; 'You, that are the most 

opprest 
With burdeiu of great treasure, I thinke 

best 
Here for to stay in safetie behynd : 
My Lord and I will search the wide forest.' 
That counsell pleased not Malbeccoes 

mynd, 
For he was much afraid him selfe alone 
to fynd. 



' Then is it best,' (said he) ' that ye doe 

leave 
Your treasure here in some security. 
Either fast closed in some hollow greave, 
Or buried in the ground from jeopardy, 
Till we returne againe in safety : 
As for us two, least doubt of us ye have, 
Hence farre away we will blyndfolded ly, 
Ne privy bee unto your treasures gi'ave.' 
It pleased; so he did. Then they march 

forward brave. 

XLIII. 

Now, when amid the thickest woodes 

they were, 
They heard a noyse of many bagpipes 

shrill. 
And shrieking Hububs them approching 

nere. 
Which all the forest did with horrour fill. 
That dreadfull sound the bosters hart did 

thrill 
With such amazement, that in hast he 

fledd, 
Ne ever looked back for good or ill ; 
And after him eke fearefull Trompart 

spedd : 
The old man could not fly, but fell to 

ground half dedd. 



Yet afterwardes, close creeping as he 

might. 
He in a bush did hyde his fearefull hedd. 
The jolly Satyres, full of fresh delight. 
Came dauncing forth, and with them 

nimbly ledd 
Faire Helenore with girlonds all bespredd. 
Whom their May-lady they had newly 

made: 
She, proude of that new honour which 

they redd. 
And of their lovely fellowship full glade, 
Daunst lively, and her face did with a 

Lawrell shade. 



The silly man that in the thickett lay 
Saw all this goodly sport, and grieved 

sore; 
Yet durst he not against it doe or say. 
But did his hart with bitter thoughts en- 
gore, 
To see th' unkindnes of his Hellenore, 
All day they daunced with great lusty- 

liedd. 
And with their homed feet the greene 

gras wore. 
The whiles their Gotes upon the bronzes 
fedd, 



272 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Till droupiug Phoebus gan to hyde his 
golden hedd. 



The up they gan their mery pypes to 

trusse, 
And all their goodly heardes did gather 

rownd ; 
But every Satyre first did give a busse 
To Hellenore ; so busses did abound. 
Now gan the humid vapour shed the 

grown d 
With perly deaw, and th' Earthes gloomy 

shade 
Did dim the brightnesse of the welkiu 

rownd, 
That every bird and beast awarned made 
To shrowd themselves, whiles sleepe their 

seuces did invade. 

XLVII. 

Which when Malbecco saw, out of the 

bush 
Upon his handes and feete he crept full 

light, 
And like a Gote emongst the Gotes did 

rush; 
That, through the helpe of his faire homes 

on hight, 
And misty dampe of misconcey ving night, 
And eke through likenesse of his gotish 

beard, 
He did the better counterfeite aright : 
So home he marcht emongst the horned 

heard, 
That none of all the Satyres him espyde 

or heard. 

XLVIII. 

At night, when all they went to sleepe, 

he vewd 
Whereas his lovely wife emongst them lay, 
Embraced of a Satyre rough and rude, 
Who all the night did minde his joyous 

play : 
Nine times he heard him come aloft ere 

day, 
That all his hart with gealosy did swell ; 
But yet that nights ensample did bewray 
That not for nought his wife them loved 

so well, 
When one so oft a night did ring his 

matins bell. 



So closely as he could he to them crept. 
When vvearie of their sport to sleepe they 

fell, 
And to his wife, that now full soundly 

slept. 
He whispered in her eare, and did her tell 



That it was he which by her side did 

dwell ; 
And therefore prayd her wake to heare 

him plaine, 
As one out of a dreame not waked well 
She turnd her, and returned backe 

againe ; 
Yet her for to awake he did the more con- 

straine. 

L. 

At last with irkesom trouble she 

abrayd ; 
And then perceiving that it was indeed 
Her old Malbecco, which did her upbrayd 
With loosenesse of her love and loathly 

deed, 
She was astonisht with exceeding dreed. 
And would have wakt the Satyre by her 

syde; 
But he her prayd, for mercy or for meed. 
To save his life, ne let him be descryde. 
But hearken to his lore, and all his couu- 

sell hyde. 

LI. 

Tho gan he her perswade to leave that 

lewd 
And loathsora life, of God and man ab- 

hord. 
And home returne, where all should be 

renewd 
AVith perfect peace and bandes of fresh 

accord. 
And she receivd againe to bed and bord, 
As if no trespas ever had beene donne : 
But she it all refused at one word. 
And by no nieanes would to his will be 

wonne. 
But chose emongst the jolly Satyres still 

to wonne. 

LII. 

He wooed her till day-spring he espyde, 
But all in vaine ; and then turnd to the 

heard, 
Who butted him with homes on every 

syde, 
And tvode downe in the durt, where his 

hore beard 
Was fowly dight, and he of death afeard. 
Early, before the heavens fairest light 
Out of the ruddy East was fully reard, 
The heardes out of their foldes were 

loosed quight. 
And he emongst the rest crept forth in 

sory plight. 

LIII. 

So soone as he the Prison-dore did pas, 
He ran as fast as both his feet could 

beare, 
And never looked who behind him was, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



273 



Ne scarsely who before : like as a Beare, 
That creeping close amongst the hives to 

reare 
An houy-combe, the wakefull dogs espy, 
And him assayling sore his carkas teare, 
That hardly he with life away does fly, 
Ne stayes, till safe him selfe he see from 

jeopardy. 

LIV. 

Ne stayd he, till he came unto the place 
Where late his treasure he entombed had ; 
Where when he found it not, (for Trom- 

part bace 
Had it purloyned for his maister bad) 
With extreme fury he became quite mad, 
And ran away, ran with him selfe away; 
That who so straungely had him scene 

bestadd. 
With upstart haire and staring eyes dis- 
may, 
From Limbo lake him late escaped sure 
would say. 



High over hilles and over dales he fledd, 
As if the wind him on his winges had 

borne ; 
Ne banck nor bush could stay him, when 

he spedd 
His nimble feet, as treading still on 

thorne : 
Griefe, and despight, and gealosy, and 

scorne, 
Did all the way him follow hard behynd ; 
And he himselfe himselfe loath'd so for- 

lorne, 
So shamefully forlorne of womankynd, 
That, as a Snake, still lurked in his 

wounded mynd. 



Still fled he forward, looking backward 

still ; 
Ne stayd his flight nor fearefull agony. 
Till that he came unto a rocky hill 
Over the sea suspended dreadfully. 
That living creature it would terrify 
To looke adowne, or upward to the hight : 
From thence he threw him selfe despite- 

ously. 
All desperate of his fore-damned spright. 
That seemd no help for him was left in 

living sight. 



But through long anguish and selfe- 
murdring thought, 
He was so wasted and forpined quight, 



That all his substance was cousum'd to 
nought. 

And nothing left but like an aery Spright, 

That on the rockes he fell so flit and 
light. 

That he thereby receiv'd no hurt at all ; 

But chaimced on a craggy cliff to light, 

Whence he with crooked clawes so long 
did crall. 

That at last he found a cave with en- 
trance small. 

LVIII. 

Into the same he creepes, and thence- 
forth there 
Resolv'd to build his balefull mansion 
In dreary darkenes and continuall feare 
Of that rocks fall, which ever and anon 
Threates with huge ruine him to fall 

upon. 
That he dare never sleepe, but that one 

eye 
Still ope he keepes for that occasion ; 
Ne ever rests he in tranquillity. 
The roring billowes beat his bowre so 
boystrously. 



Ne ever is he wont on ought to feed 
But todes and frogs, his pasture poyson- 

ous, 
AVhich in his cold complexion doe breed 
A filthy blood, or humour rancorous, 
Matter of doubt and dread suspitious, 
That doth with curelesse care consume 

the hart. 
Corrupts the stomacke with gall vitious, 
Cros-cuts the liver with internall smart, 
And doth transfixe the soule with deathes 

eternall dart. 



Yet can he never dye, but dying lives, 
And doth himselfe with sorrow new sus- 

taine, 
That death and life attonce unto him 

gives, 
And painef ull pleasure turnes to pleasing 

paine. 
There dwels he ever, miserable swaine, 
HatefuU both to him selfe and every 

wight ; 
Where he, through privy griefe and hor- 

rour vaine. 
Is woxen so deform'd that he has quight 
Forgot he was 4 man, and Gelosy is 

hight. 



274 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



CANTO XI. 

Britomart chaceth Ollyphant ; 
Findes Sciidamour distrest : 
Assayes the house of Busyrane, 
Where loves spoyles are'exprest. 



O HATEFULL hellish Snake ! what f urle 

furst 
Brought thee from balef ull house of Pros- 
erpine, 
Where in her bosome she thee long had 

nurst, 
And fostred up with bitter railke of tine, 
Fowle Gealosy ! that turnest love divine 
To joylesse dread, and mak'st the loving 

hart 
With hatefull thoughts to languish and to 

pine, 
And feed it selfe with selfe-consuming 

smart ? 
Of all the passions in the mind thou 

vilest art ! 

II. 
O ! let him far be banished away, 
And in his stead let Love for ever dwell ; 
Sweete Love, that doth his golden wings 

embay 
In blessed Nectar and pure Pleasures 

well, 
Untroubled of vile feai-e or bitter fell. 
And ye, faire Ladies, that j'our kiugdomes 

make 
In th' harts of men, thepi governe wisely 

well. 
And of faire Britomart ensample take, 
That was as trew in love as Turtle to her 

make. 

III. 

Who with Sir Satyrane, as earst ye red. 
Forth ryding from Malbeccoes hostlesse 

hous, 
Far off aspyde a young man, the which 

lied 
From an huge Geaunt, that with hideous 
And hatefull outrage long him chaced 

thus ; 
It was that Ollyphant, the brother deare 
Of that Argante vile and vitious. 
From whom the Squyre of Dames was 

reft whylere ; 
This all as bad as she, and worse, if worse 

ought were. 



For as the sister did in feminine 
And filthy lust exceede all womaukiude, 



So he surpassed his sex masculine, 
In beastly use, all that I ever finde : 
Whom when as Britomart beheld behinde 
The fearefull boy so greedily pourseM', 
She was emmoved in her noble miude, 
T' employ her puissaunce to his reskew, 
And pricked fiercely forward where she 
did him vew. 



Ne was Sir Satyrane her far behinde, 
But with like fiercenesse did eusew the 

chace. 
Whom* when the Gyaunt saw, he soone 

resinde 
His former suit, and from them fled 

apace : 
They after both, and boldly bad him bace, 
And each did strive the other to outgoe : 
But he them both outran a wondrous 

space. 
For he was long, and swift as any Roe, 
And now made better speed t' escape his 

feared foe. 

VI. 

It was not Satyrane, whom he did feare, 
But Britomart the flowre of chastity ; 
For he the powre of chaste hands might 

not beare, 
But alwayes did their dread encounter 

fly: 
And now so fast his feet he did apply. 
That he has gotten to a forrest neare, 
AVhere he is shrowded in security. 
The wood they enter, and search everie 

where ; 
They searched diversely, so both divided 

were. 

VII. 

Fayre Britomart so long him followed. 
That she at last came to a fountaine 

sheare, 
By which there lay a knight all wallowed 
Upon the grassy ground, and l)y him 

neare 
His haberjeon, his helmet, and his speare : 
A little off his shield Avas rudely throwne, 
On which the winged boy in colours cleare 
Depeincted was, full easie to be knowne, 
And he thereby, where ever it in field wasj 

showne. 



mm 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



275 



His face upon the grownd did groveling 

As if he had beene slombring in the 

shade ; 
That the brave Mayd would not for 

courtesy- 
Out of his quiet slomber him abrade, 
Nor seeme too suddeinly him to invade. 
Still as she stood, she heard with grievous 

throb 
Him grone, as if his hart were peeces 

made, 
And with most painefull pangs to sigh 

and sob, 
Thatpitty did the Virgins hart of patience 

rob. 

IX. 

At last forth breaking into bitter 

plaintes 
He sayd ; ' O soverayne Lord ! that sit'st 

on hye 
And raignst in blis amongst thy blessed 

Saintes, 
How suffrest thou such shamefull cruelty 
So long unwreaked of thuie enimy ? 
Or hast thou. Lord, of good mens cause 

no heed? 
Or doth thy justice sleepe and silent ly ? 
What booteth then the good and righteous 

deed, 
If goodnesse find no grace, nor righteous- 

nes no meed ? 



' If good find grace, and righteousnes 

reward, » 

Why then is Amoret in cay five band, 
Sith that more bounteous creature never 

far'd 
On foot upon the face of living land ? 
Or if that hevenly justice may withstand 
The wrongfull outrage of unrighteous 

men. 
Why then is Busirane with wicked hand 
Suffred, these seven monethes day, in 

secret den 
My Lady and my love so cruelly to pen ! 

XI. 

' My Lady and my love is cruelly pend 
In dolefull darkenes from the vew of 

day, 
Whilest deadly torments doe her chast 

brest rend, 
And the sharpe Steele doth rive her hart 

in tway. 
All for she Scudamore will not denay. 
Yet thou, vile man, vile Scudamore, art 

sound, 



Ne canst her ayde, ue canst her foe dismay ; 
Unworthy wretch to tread upon the 

ground. 
For whom so faire a Lady feeles so sore 

a wound ! ' 

XII. 

There an huge heape of singults did 

oppresse 
His strugling soule, and swelling throbs 

empeach 
His foltring toung with pangs of dreri- 

nesse, 
Choking the remnant of his plaintife 

speach, 
As if his dayes were come to their last 

reach : 
Which when she heard, and saw the 

ghastly fit 
Threatning into his life to make a breach. 
Both with great ruth and terrour she was 

smit. 
Fearing least from her cage the wearie 

soule would flit. 



Tho stoupiug downe she him amoved 

light ; 
Who, therewith somewhat starting, up 

gan looke. 
And seeing him behind a stranger knight. 
Whereas no living creature he mistooke, 
\V ith great indignaunce he that sight for- 

sooke. 
And, downe againe himself e disdainfully 
Abjecting, th' earth with his faire forhead 

strooke : 
Which the bold Virgin seeing gan apply 
Fit medcine to hid griefe, and spake thus 

courtesly : — 



'Ah gentle knight! whose deepe con- 
ceived griefe 
Well seemes t' exceede the powre of pa- 
tience. 
Yet, if that hevenly grace some goode 

reliefe 
You send, submit you to high providence ; 
And ever in your noble hart prepense, 
That all the sorrow in the world is lesse 
Then vertues might and values confi- 
dence: 
For who nill bide the burden of distresse, 
Must not here thinke to live; for life is 
wretchednesse. 



' Therefore, faire Sir, doe comfort to you 
take. 
And freely read what wicked felon so 



276 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Hath outrag'd you, aud thrald your gentle 

make. 
Perhaps this hand may helpe to ease your 

woe, 
And wreaks your sorrow on your cruell 

foe ; 
At least it faire eudevour will apply.' 
Those feeling words so neare the quicke 

did goe, 
That up his head he reared easily, 
And, leaning on his elhowe, these few 

words lett fly. 



* What boots it plaine that cannot be 

red rest, 
And sow vaine sorrow in a fruitlesse eare, 
Sith powre of hand, nor skill of learned 

brest, 
Ne worldly price, caiuiot redeeme my 

deare 
Out of her thraldome and continuall feare : 
For he, the tyrant which her hath in ward 
By strong enchauntments and blacke 

Magicke leare. 
Hath in a dungeon deepe her close embard. 
And many dreadfull feends hath pointed 

to her gard. 



' There he tormenteth her most terribly 
And day and night afflicts with mortall 

paine, 
Because to yield him love she doth deny. 
Once to me'yold, not to be yolde againe : 
But yet by torture he would her con- 

straine 
Love to conceive in her disdain full brest ; 
Till so she doe, she must in doole remaine, 
Ne may by living meanes be thence relest : 
What boots it then to plaine that cannot 

be red rest ? ' 



With this sad hersall of his heavy stresse 
The warlike Damzell was empassiond 

sore, 
Aud sayd ; * Sir knight, your cause is 

nothing lesse 
Then is your sorrow certes, if not more ; 
For nothing so much pitty doth implore 
As gentle Ladyes helplesse misery : 
But yet, if please ye listen to my lore, 
I will, with proofe of last extremity, 
Deliver her fro thence, or with her for 

you dy. 

XIX. 

'Ah! gentlest knight alive,' (sayd 
Scudamore) 
* What huge heroicke magnanimity 



Dwells in thy bounteous brest! what 

couldst thou more. 
If shee were thine, and thou as now am I ? 
O! spare thy happy dales, aud them 

apply 
To better boot ; but let me die that ought : 
More is more losse ; one is enough to dy.' 
' Life is not lost,' (said she) ' for which is 

bought 
Endlesse renowm, that, more then death, 

is to be sought.' 

XX. 

Thus shee at length persuaded him to 

rise. 
And with her wend to see what new suc- 

cesse 
Mote him befall upon new enterprise. 
His amies, which he had vowed to dis- 

professe, 
She gathered up and did about him dresse, 
And his forwandred steed unto him gott ; 
So forth they forth yfere make their pro- 

gresse, 
And march not past the mountenaunce of 

a shott. 
Till they arriv'd whereas their purpose 

they did plott. 

XXI. 

There they dismounting drew their 
weapons bold. 
And stoutly came unto the Castle gate. 
Whereas no gate they found them to with- 
hold. 
Nor ward to waite at morne and evening 

late ; 
But in the Porch, that did them sore amate, 
A flaming fire , ymixt with smouldry smoke 
And stinking sulphure, that with griesly 

hate 
And dreadfull horror did all entraunce 

choke. 
Enforced them their forward footing to 
revoke. 

XXII. 

Greatly thereat was Britomart dismayd, 
Ne in that stownd wist how her selfe to 

beare ; 
For daunger vaine it were to have assayd 
That cruell element, which all things feare, 
Ne none can suffer to approchen neare : 
And, turning backe to Scudamour, thus 

sayd : 
' What monstrous enmity provoke we 

lieare ? 
Foolhardy as th' Earthes children, the 

whii-h made 
Batteill against the Gods, so we a God 

invade. 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



277 



' Daunger without discretion to attempt 
Inglorious, beastlike is: therefore, Sir 

knight, 
Aread what course of you is safest dempt. 
And how he with our foe may come to 

tight.' 
' This is ' (quoth he) ' the dolorous de- 

spight, 
Which earst to you I playnd : for neither 

may 
This lire be queucht by any witt or might, 
Ne yet by any meanes remov'd away; 
So mighty be th' enchauntments which 

the same do stay. 



' What is there ells but cease these f ruit- 

lesse paines, 
And leave me to my former languishing? 
Faire Amorett must dwell in wicked 

chaines, 
And Scudamore here die with sorrowing.' 
' Perdy not so,' (saide shee) ' for shameful 

thing 
Yt were t' abandon noble chevisaunce 
For shewe of perill, without venturing: 
Rather let try extremities of chaunce. 
Then enterprised praise for dread to dis- 

avaunce.' 

XXV. 

Therewith, resolv'd to prove her utmost 

might, 
Her ample shield she threw before her 

face. 
And her swords point directing forward 

right 
Assayld the flame; the which eftesoones 

gave place, 
And did it selfe divide with equall space, 
That through she passed, as a thonder 

bolt 
Perceth the yielding ayre, and doth dis- 
place 
The soring clouds into sad showres ymolt ; 
So to her yold the flames, and did their 

force revolt. 



Whom when as Scudamour saw past the 

fire 
Safe and untoucht, he likewise gan assay 
With greedy will and envious desire, 
And bad the stubborn flames to yield him 

way: 
But cruel! Mulciber would not obay 
His threatfull pride, but did the more 

augment 
His mighty rage, and with imperious sway 
Him forst, (maulgre) his fercenes to relent. 



And backe retire, all scorcht and pittif ully 
brent, 

xxvii. 

With huge impatience he inly swelt. 
More for great sorrow that he could not pas 
Then for the burning torment which he 

felt; 
That with fell woodnes he effiereed was, 
And wilfully him throwing on the gras 
Did beat and bounse his head and brest 

ful sore : 
The whiles the Champiouesse now entred 

has 
The utmost rowme, and past the foremost 

dore ; 
The utmost rowme abounding with all 

precious store : 



For round about the walls yclothed were 
W^ith goodly arras of great majesty, 
Woven witli gold and silke, so close and 

nere 
That the rich metall lurked privily. 
As faining to be hidd from envious eye; 
Yet here, and there, and every where, un- 

wares 
It shewd it selfe and shone unwillingly; 
Like a discolourd Snake, whose hidden 

snares 
Through the greene gras his long bright 

burnisht back declares. 



And in those Tapets weren fashioned 
Many faire pourtraicts, and many a faire 

feate ; 
And all of love, and al of lusty-hed, 
As seemed by their semblaunt, did en- 
treat : 
And eke all Cupids warres they did re- 

peate, 
And cruell battailes, which he whilome 

fought 
Gainst all the Gods to make his empire 

great ; 
Besides the huge massacres, which he 

wrought 
On mighty kings and kesars into thral- 

dome brought. 



Therein was writt how often thondring 

Jove 
Had felt the point of his hart-percingdart. 
And, leaving heavens kingdome, here did 

rove 
In straunge disguize, to slake his scalding 

smart ; 
Now, like a Ram, faire Helle to pervart. 



278 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



Now, like a Bull, Europa to withdraw: 
Ah! how the fearefull Ladies tender hart 
Did lively seem to tremble, when she saw 
The huge seas under her t' obay her ser- 
vaunts law. 

XXXI. 

Soone after that, into a golden showre 
Hiiii selfe he chaung'd, faire Danae to 

vew; 
And through the roofe of her strong brasen 

towre 
Did raine into her lap an hony dew; 
The whiles her foolish garde, that litle 

knew 
Of such deceipt, kept th' yron dore fast 

bard , 
And watcht that none should enter nor 

issew : 
Vaine was the watch, and bootlesse all 

the ward, 
Whenas the God to golden hew him selfe 

transfard. 

XXXII. 

Then was he turnd into a snowy Swan, 
To win faire Led a to his lovely trade : 
O wondrous skill! and sweet wit of the 

man, 
That her in daffadillies sleeping made 
From scorching heat her daintie limbes to 

shade ; 
Whiles the proud Bird, ruffing his fethers 

wyde 
And brushing his faire brest, did her in- 
vade: 
She slept; yet twixt her eielids closely 

spyde 
How towards her he rusht, and smiled at 
his pryde. 

XXXIII. 

Then shewd it how the Thebane 

Semelee, 
Deeeivd of gealous Juno, did require 
To see him in his soverayne majestee 
Arrad with his thunderbolts and lightning 

fire, 
Whens dearely she with death bought her 

desire. 
But faire Alcmena better match did 

make. 
Joying his love in likenes more entire: 
Three nights in one, they say, that for her 

sake 
He then did put, her pleasures lenger to 

partake. 

XXXIV. 

Twise was he scene in soaring Eagles 
shape, 



And with wide winges to beat the buxome 

ayre : 
Once, when he with Asterie did scape; 
Againe, when as the Trojane boy so 

fayre 
He snatcht from Ida hill, and with him 

bare : 
Wondrous delight it was there to behould 
How the rude Shepheaids after him did 

stare. 
Trembling through feare least down he 

fallen should. 
And often to him calling to take surer 

hould. 

XXXV. 

In Satyres shape Antiopa he snatcht; 
And like a tire, when he Aegin' assayd : 
A shepeheard, when Mnemosyne he 

catcht ; 
And like a Serpent to the Thracian mayd. 
Whyles thus on earth great Jove these 

pageaunts playd, 
The winged boy did thrust into his throne, 
And scoffing thus unto his mother sayd : 
' Lo! now the hevens obey to me alone. 
And take me for their Jove, whiles Jove 

to earth is gone.' 



And thou, faire Phoebus, in thy colours 

bright 
Wast there enwoven, and the sad distresse 
In which that boy thee plonged, for de- 

spight 
That thou bewray'dst his mothers wanton- 

uesse. 
When she with Mars was meynt in joyf ul- 

nesse : 
Forthy he thrild thee with a leaden dart 
To love faire Daphne, which thee loved 

lesse ; 
Lesse she thee lov'd then was thy just 

desart, 
Yet was thy love her death, and her death 

was thy smart. 

XXXVII. 

So lovedst thou the lusty Hyacinct; 
So lovedst thou the faire Coronis deare; 
Yet both are of thy haplesse hand extinct, 
Yet both in flowres doe live, and love thee 

beare, 
The one a Paunce, the other a sweet- 

breare : 
For griefe whereof, ye mote have lively 

seene 
The God himselfe rending his golden 

heare. 
And breaking quite his garlond ever 

greene, 



CANTO XL] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



279 



With other signes of sorrow and impatient 
teene. 

XXXVIII. 

Both for those two, and for his owne 

deare sonne, 
The sonne of Climene, he did repent ; 
Who, bold to guide the charet of the 

Sunne, 
Himselfe in thousand peeces fondly rent. 
And all the world with flashing tire 

brent ; 
So like, that all the walles did seenie to 

flame : 
Yet cruell Cupid, not herewith content, 
Forst him eftsoones to follow other game, 
And love a Shepliards daughter for his 

dearest Dame. 



He loved Isse for his dearest Dame, 
And for her sake her cattell fedd awhile, 
And for her sake a cowheard vile became 
The servant of Admetus, cowheard vile, 
Whiles that from heaven he suffered 

exile. 
Long were to tell each other lovely fitt ; 
Now, like a Lyon hunting after spoile ; 
Now, like a stag ; now, like a faulcon flit : 
All which in that faire arras was most 

lively writ. 

XL. 

Next unto him was Neptune pictured, 
In his divine resemblance wondrous lyke : 
His face was rugged, and his hoarie hed 
Dropped with brackish deaw : his three- 

forkt Pyke 
He stearnly shooke, and therewith fierce 

did stryke 
The raging billowes, that on every syde 
They trembling stood, and made a long 

broad dyke. 
That his swift charet might have passage 

wyde 
Which foure great Hippodames did draw 

in temewise tyde. 

XLI. 

His seahorses did seeme to snort 

amayne, 
And from' their nosethrilles blow the 

brynie streame, 
That made the sparckling waves to smoke 

agayne. 
And flame with gold ; but the white fomy 

cream e 
Did shine with silver, and shoot forth his 

beame. 
The (iod himselfe did pensive seeme and 

sad, 



And hong adowne his head as he did 

dreame ; 
For privy love his brest empierced had, 
Ne ought but deare Bisaltis ay could make 

him glad. 

XLII. 

He loved eke Iphimedia deare. 
And Aeolus faire daughter, Arne hight. 
For whom he turnd him selfe into a 

Steare, 
And fedd on fodder to beguile her sight. 
Also to win Deucalions daughter bright, 
He turnd him selfe into a Dolphin fayre ; 
And like a winged horse he tooke his 

flight 
To snaky-locke Medusa to repayre, 
On whom he got faire Pegasus that flitteth 

in the ay re. 

XLIII. 

Next Saturne was, (but who would ever 
weene 

That sullein Saturne ever weend to love? 

Yet love is sullein, and Saturnlike seene, 

As he did for Erigone it prove) 

That to a Centaure did him selfe trans- 
move. 

So proov'd it eke that gratious God of 
wine, 

When for to compasse Philliras hard love, 

He turnd himselfe into a fruitfull vine. 

And into her faire bosome made his grapes 
decline. 

XLIV. 

Long were to tell the amorous assayes, 
And gentle pangues, with which he maked 

meeke 
The mightie Mars, to learne his wanton 

playes ; 
How oft for Venus, and how often eek 
For many other Nymphes, he sore did 

shreek. 
With womanish teares, and with unwar- 

like smarts, 
Privily moystening his horrid cheeke : 
There" was he painted full of burning 

dartes. 
And many wide woundes launched 

through his inner partes. 



Ne did he spare (so cruell was the Elfe) 

His owne deare mother, (ah ! why should 
he so ?) 

Ne did he spare sometime to pricke him- 
selfe. 

That he might taste the sweet consuming 
woe. 

Which he had wrought to many others 
moe. 



28o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



But, to declare the mournfull Tragedyes 
And spoiles wherewith he all the ground 

did strow, 
More eath to number with how many eyes 
High heven beholdes sad lovers nightly 

theeveryes. 



Kings, Queenes, Lords, Ladies, knights, 

and Damsels gent, 
Were heap'd together with the vulgar 

sort, 
And mingled with the raskall rablement, 
Without respect of person or of port. 
To shew Dan Cupids powre and great 

effort : 
And round about a border was entrayld 
Of broken bowes and arrowes shivered 

short ; 
And a long bloody river through them 

ray Id, 
So lively and so like that living sence it 

fay Id. 

XLVII. 

And at the upper end of that faire 

rowme 
There was an Altar built of pretious stone 
Of passing valew and of great renowme. 
On which there stood an Image all alone 
Of massy gold, which with his owne light 

shone ; 
And winges it had with sondry colours 

dight, 
More sondry colours then the proud 

Pavone 
Beares in his boasted fan, or Iris bright, 
When her discolourd bow she spreds 

through hevens bight. 

XLVIII. 

Blyndfold he was ; and in his cruell fist 
A mortall bow and arrowes keene did 

hold. 
With which he shot at randon, when him 

list. 
Some headed with sad lead, some with 

pure gold ; 
(Ah man ! beware how thou tliose dartes 

behold.) 
A wounded Dragon under him did ly, 
Whose hideous tayle his lefte foot did 

enfold. 
And with a shaft was shot through either 

eye. 
That no man forth might draw, ne no 

man remedye. 

XLIX. 

And underneath his feet was written 
thus, 



Unto the Victor of the God^ this bee : 
And all the people in that ample hous 
Did to that image bowe their humble 

knee. 
And oft committed fowle Idolatree. 
That wondrous sight faire Britomart 

amazd, 
Ne seeing could her wonder satisfle. 
But ever more and more upon it gazd, 
The whiles the passing brightnes her 

fraile sences dazd. 



Tho, as she backward cast her busie 

eye 
To search each secrete of that goodly 

sted , 
Over the dore thus written she did spye, 
Bee bold : she oft and oft it over-red. 
Yet could not find what sence it figured : 
But what so were therein or writ or 

ment, 
She was no whit thereby discouraged 
From prosecuting of her first intent, 
But forward with bold steps into the 

next roome went. 

LI. 

Much fayrer then the former was that 

roome. 
And richlier by many partes arayd ; 
For not with arras made in painefull 

loome. 
But with pure gold it all was overlayd. 
Wrought with wilde Antickes, which 

their follies playd 
In the rich metall as they living were. 
A thousand monstrous formes therein 

were made, 
Such as false love doth oft upon him 

weare ; 
For love in thousand monstrous formes 

doth oft appeare. 



And all about the glistring walles were 

hong 
With warlike spoiles and with victorious 

prayes 
Of mightie Conquerours and Captaines 

strong, 
Which were whilome captived in their 

dayes 
To cruell love, and wrought their owne 

decayes. 
Their swerds and speres were broke, and 

hauberques rent, 
And their proud girlonds of tryumphant 

bayes 
Troden in dust with fury iqsoleut, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



281 



To shew the victors might and mercilesse 
intent. 

LIII. 

The warlike Mayd, beholding earnestly 
The goodly ordinaunce of this rich 

Place". 
Did greatly wonder ; ne could satisfy 
Her greedy eyes with gazing a long 

space : 
But more she mervaild that no footings 

trace 
Nor wight appeard, but wastefull empti- 

nesse 
And solemne silence over all that place : 
Straunge thing it seem'd, that none was 

to possesse 
So rich purveyauuce, ne them keepe with 

carefulnesse. 

LIV. 

And, as she lookt about, she did be- 
hold 

How over that same dore was likewise 
writ, 

Be bolde, be bolde, and every where, Be 
bold : 



That much she muz'd , yet could not con- 
strue it 

By any ridling skill, or commune wit. 

At last she spyde at that rowmes upper 
end 

Another yron dore, on which was writ. 

Be not too bold; whereto though she did 
bend 

Her earnest minde, yet wist not what it 
might intend. 



Thus she there wayted untill eventyde. 
Yet livhig creature none she saw appeare. 
And now sad shadowes gan the world to 

hyde 
From mortall vew, and wrap in darkenes 

dreare ; 
Yet nould she d'off her weary armes, for 

feare 
Of secret daunger, ne let sleepe oppresse 
Her heavy eyes with natures burdein 

deare, 
But drew her selfe aside in sickernesse. 
And her wel-pointed wepons did about 

her dresse. 



CANTO xn. 

The maske of Cupid, and tli' enchant- 
ed Chamber are displayd ; 

Whence Britomart redeeuies faire A- 
moret through charines decayd. 



Tho, whenas chearelesse Night ycov- 

ered had 
Fayre heaven with an universall clowd. 
That every wight dismayd with darkenes 

sad 
In silence and in sleepe themselves did 

shrowd. 
She heard a shrillingTrompet sound alowd, 
Signe of nigh battaill, or got victory: 
Nought therewith daunted was her cour- 
age prowd, 
But rather stird to cruell enmity. 
Expecting ever when some foe she might 

descry. 

11. 
With that an hideous storme of winde 

arose. 
With dreadfull thunder and lightning 

atwixt. 
And an earthquake, as if it streight 

would lose 
The worlds foundations from his centre 

fixt: 
A direfull stench of smoke and sulphure 

mixt 



Ensewd, whose noyaunce fild the feare- 

full sted 
From the fourth howre of night untill the 

sixt; 
Yet the bold Britonesse was nought 

yd red. 
Though much emmov'd, but stedfast still 

persevered. 

III. 

All suddeinly a stormy whirlwind blew 
Throughout the house, that clapped eveiy 

dore, 
With which that yron wicket open tlew. 
As it with mighty levers had bene tore; 
And forth yssev/d, as on the readie flore 
Of some Theatre, a grave personage 
That in his hand a braunch of laurell bore, 
With comely haveour and count'nance 

sage, 
Yclad in costly garments fit for tragicke 

Stage. 

IV. 

Proceeding to the midst he stil did 
stand. 
As if in minde he somewhat had to say ; 
And tothevulgare beckniug with his hand, 



282 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



In signe of silence, as to heare a play, 
By lively actions he gun bewray 
Some argument of matter passioned : 
Which doen, he backe retyred soft away, 
And, passing by, his name discovered. 
Ease, on his robe in golden letters cy- 
phered. 

V. 

The noble Mayd still standing all this 
vewd, 
And merveild at his straunge iutendi- 

ment. 
AVith that a joyous fellowship issewd 
Of Minstrales making goodly meriment, 
With wanton Bardes, and Rymers impu- 
dent ; 
All which together song full chearefully 
A lay of loves delight with sweet concent : 
After whom marcht a jolly company, 
In manner of a niaske, enranged orderly. 

VI. 

The whiles a most delitious harmony 
In full straunge notes was sweetly heard 

to sound. 
That the rare sweetnesse of the melody 
The feeble sauces wlioly did coiift)und, 
And the f rayle soule in deepe delight nigh 

drownd : 
And, when it ceast, shrill trorapets lowd 

did bray, 
That their report did far away rebound ; 
And, when they ceast, it gan agaiue to 

play, 
The whiles the maskers marched forth in 

trim aray. 

VII. 

The first was IP&nsy, like a lovely Boy 
Of rare aspect, and beautie without peare, 
Matchable ether to that ympe of Troy, 
Whom Jove did love and chose his cup to 

beare ; 
Or that same daintie lad, which was so 

deare 
To great Alcides, that, when as he dyde. 
He wailed womanlike with many a teare, 
And every wood and every valley wyde 
He filld with Hylas name ; the Nyraphes 

eke Hylas cryde. 



His garment nether was of silke nor 

say. 
But paynted plumes in goodly order 

dight. 
Like as the sunburnt Indians do aray 
Their tawney bodies in their proudest 

plight: 
As those same plumes so seemd he vaine 

and light, 



That by his gate might easily appeare ; 
For still he far'd as dauncing in delight, 
And in his hand a witidy fan did beare. 
That in the ydle ayre he mov'd still here 
and theare. 



And him beside marcht amorous Desyre, 
Who seemd of ryper yeares then th' other 

Swayne, 
Yet was that other swayne this elders 

syre, 
And gave him being, commune to them 

twayne: 
His garment was disguysed very vayne. 
And his embrodered Bonet sat awry : 
Twixt both his hands few sparks he close 

did strayne. 
Which still he blew and kindled busily. 
That soone they life conceiv'd, and forth 

in flames did fly. 



Next after him went Doubt, who was 

yclad 
In a discolour'd cote of straunge dis- 

guyse. 
That at his backe a brode Capuccio had. 
And sleeves dependaunt Albanese-wyse : 
He lookt askew with his mistrustful! 

eyes. 
And nycely trode, as thornes lay in his 

way. 
Or that the Hore to shrinke he did avyse ; 
And on a broken reed he still did stay 
His feeble steps, which shrunck when 

hard thereon he lay. 

XI. ^ 

With him went Daunger, cloth'd in 
ragged weed 

Made of Beares skin, that him more 
dreadfull made ; 

Yet his owne face was dreadfull, ne did 
need 

Straunge horrour to deforme his griesly 
shade : 

A net in th' one hand, and a rusty blade 

In th' other was; this Mischiefe, that 
Mishap : 

WMth th' one his foes he threatned to in- 
vade, 

With th' other he his friends ment to en- 
wrap ; 

For whom he could not kill he practizd to 
entrap. 

XII. 

Next him was Teare, all arm'd from 
top to toe, 
Yet thought himselfe not safe enough 
thereby, 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QL'T.NE. 



283 



But feard each shadow moving too or 

f roe ; 
And, his owne armes when glittering he 

did spy 
Or clashing heard, he fast away did fly. 
As ashes pale of hew, and winged heeld. 
And evermore on Daunger lixt his eye, 
Gainst whom he alwayes bent a brasen 

shield. 
Which his right hand unarmed f carefully 

did wield. 

XIII. 

With him went Hope in rancke, a hand- 
some Mayd, 

Of chearefull looke and lovely to behold : 

In silken samite she was light arayd, 

And her fayre lockes were woven up in 
gold: 

She alway smyld, and in her hand did 
^ hold 

; An holy-water-sprinckle, dipt in deowe. 

With which she sprinckled favours mani- 
fold 

On whom she list, and did great liking 
sheowe. 

Great liking unto many, but true love to 
feowe. 

XIV. 

And after them Dissemblaunce and Sus- 
pect 
Marcht in one rancke, yet an unequall 

paire ; 
For she was gentle and of milde aspect, 
Courteous to all and seeming debonaire, 
Goodly adorned and exceeding faire : 
Yet was that all but paynted and pour- 

loynd, 
And her bright browes were deckt with 

borrowed haire ; 
Her deeds were forged, and her words 

false coynd, 
And alwaies in her hand two clewes of 
silke she twynd. 

XY. 

But he was fowle, ill favoured, and 

grim. 
Under his eiebrowes looking still 

askaunce : 
And ever, as Dissemblaunce laught on 

him. 
He lowrd on her with daungerous eye- 

glaunce. 
Shewing his nature iu his countenauuce : 
His rolling eies did never rest in place, 
But walkte each where for feare of hid 

mischaunce, 
Holding a lattis still before his face. 
Through which he stil did peep as forward 

he did pace. 



Next him went Griefeand Fury, matfht 

yfere; 
Griefe all in sable «orrowfully clad, 
Downe hanging his dull head with heavy 

chere, 
Yet inly being more then seeming sad . 
A paire of Pincers in his hand he had, 
With which he pinched people to the hart. 
That from thenceforth a wretched lii'e 

they ladd, 
In wilf ull languor and consuming smart, 
Dying each day with inward wounds of 

dolours dart. 

XVII. 

But Fury was full ill appareiled 
In rags, that naked nigh she did appeare, 
With ghastly looks and dreadful! dreri- 

hed; 
And from her backe her garments she 

did teare, 
And from her head ofte rente her snarled 

heare : 
In her right hand a firebrand shee did 

tosse 
About her head, still roming here and 

there ; 
As a dismayed Deare in chace embost, 
Forgetfull of his safety, hath his right 

way lost. 

XVIII. 

After them went Displeasure and Pleas- 
aunce, 

He looking lompish and full sullein sad, 

And hanging downe his heavy counte- 
nauuce ; 

She chearfull, fresh, and full of joyaunce 
glad, 

As if no sorrow she ne felt ne drad ; 

That evill matched paire they seemd to 
bee: 

An angry AVaspe th' one in a viall had, 

Th' other in hers an hony-laden Bee. 

Thus marched these six couples forth in 
faire degree. 

XEX. 

After all these there marcht a most 

faire Dame, 
Led of two grysie Villeins, th' one De- 

spight, 
The other cleped Cruelty by name : 
She, dolefull Lady, like a dreary Spright 
Cald by strong charmes out of eternall 

night. 
Had Deathes owne ymage figurd in her 

face. 
Full of sad signes, fearfull to living 

sight ; 



284 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book III. 



Yet in that horror shewd a seemely 

grace, 
And with her feeble feete did move a 

comely pace. 



Her brest all naked, as nett yvory 
Without adorne of gold or silver bright, 
Wherewith the Craftesman wonts it 

beautify, 
Of her dew honour was despoyled quight ; 
And a wide wound therein (O ruefull 

sight!) 
Entrenched deep with knyfe accursed 

keene, 
Yet freshly bleeding forth her fainting 

spright, 
(The worke of cruell hand) was to be 



That dyde in sanguine red her skin all 
snowy cleene. 



At that wide orifice her trembling hart 
Was drawne forth, and in silver basin 

layd, 
Quite through transfixed with a deadly 

dart, 
And in her blood yet steeming fresh em- 

bayd : 
And those two villeins, which her steps 

upstayd, 
When her weake feete could scarcely her 

sustaine, 
And fading vitall powres gan to fade. 
Her forward still with torture did con- 

straine, 
And evermore encreased her consuming 

paine. 

XXII. 

Next after her, the winged (rod him 
selfe 
Came riding on a Lion ravenous, 
Taught to obay the menage of that Elfe 
That man and beast with poAvre imperi- 
ous 
Subdeweth to his kingdome tyrannous. 
His blindfold eies he bad awhile unbinde, 
That his proud spoile of that same dolo- 
rous 
Faire Dame he might behold in perfect 

kinde; 
Which scene, he much rejoyced in his 
cruell minde. 

XXIII. 

Of which ful prowd, him selfe up rear- 
ing hye 
He looked round about with sterne dis- 
dayne, 



And did survay his goodly company ; 
And, marshalling the evill-ordered trayne, 
With that the darts which his I'ight hand 

did straine 
Full dreadfully he shooke, that all did 

quake, 
And clapt on hye his coulourd winges 

twaine, 
That all his many it affraide did make : 
Tho, blinding him againe, his way he 

forth did take. 

XXIV. 

Behinde him was Reproch, Repentaimce, 

Shame ; 
Reproch the first, Shame next. Repent 

behinde: 
Repentaunce feeble, sorrowfull, and 

lame ; 
Reproch despightfull, carelesse, and un- 

kinde ; 
Shame most ill-favourd, bestiall, and 

blinde : 
Shame lowrd, Repentaunce sighd, Reproch 

did scould ; 
Reproch sharpe stings, Repentaunce 

whips entwinde. 
Shame burning brond-yrons in her hand 

did hold: 
All three to each unlike, yet all made in 

one mould. 



And after them a rude confused rout 
Of persons flockt, whose names is hard to 

read: 
Emongst them was sterne Strife, and 

Anger stout ; 
Unquiet Care, and fond Unthriftyhead ; 
Lewd Losse of Time, and Sorrow seeming 

dead ; 
Inconstant Chaunge, and false Disloyalty ; 
Consuming Riofise, and guilty Dread 
Of heavenly vengeaunce ; faint Infirmity ; 
Vile Poverty; and, lastly, Death with 

infamy. 

XXVI. 

There were full many moe like mala- 
dies, 

Whose names and natures I note readen 
well ; 

So many moe, as there be phantasies 

In wavering wemens witt, that none can 
tell, 

Or paines in love, or punishments in hell : 

All which disguized marcht in masking 
wise 

About the chamber by the Damozell ; 

And then returned, having marched 
thrise, 



\ 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



285 



Into the inner rowme from whence they 
first did rise. 



So soone as they were in, the dore 

streightway 
Fast locked, driven with that stormy 

blast 
Which first it opened, and bore all away. 
Then the brave Maid, which al this while 

was plast 
In secret shade, and saw both first and 

last, 
Issewed forth, and went nnto the dore 
To enter in, but fownd it locked fast : 
It vaine she thought with rigorous uprore 
For to efforce, when charmes had closed 

it afore. 

XXVIII. 

Where force might not availe, there 

sleights and art 
She cast to use, both fitt for hard em- 
prize : 
Forthy from that same rowme not to 

depart 
Till morrow next shee did her selfe avize, 
When that same Maske againe should 

forth arize. 
The morrowe next appeard with joyous 

cheare, 
Calling men to their daily exercize : 
Then she, as morrow fresh, her seffe did 

reare 
Out of her secret stand that day for to 

outweare. 

XXIX. 

All that day she outwore in wandering 
And gazing on that Chambers ornament. 
Till that againe the second evening 
Her covered with her sable vestiment. 
Wherewith the worlds faire beautie she 

hath blent : 
Then, when the second watch was almost 

past, 
That brasen dore flew open, and in went 
Bold Britomart, as she had late forecast, 
Nether of ydle showes, nor of false 

charmes aghast. 

XXX. 

So soone as she was entred, rovrnd 
about 

Shee cast her eies to see what was 
become 

Of all those persons which she saw with- 
out : 

But lo! they streight were vanisht all 
and some ; 

Ne living wight she saw in all that 
roome, 



Save that same woefull Lady, both whose 

hands 
Were bounden fast, that did her ill 

become. 
And her small waste girt rownd with 

yron bands 
Upon a brasen pillour, by the which she 

stands. 

XXXI. 

And her before the vile Enchaunter sate, 
Figuring straunge characters of his art: 
With living blood he those characters 

wrate, 
Dreadfully dropping from her dying hart, 
Seeming transfixed with a cruell dart ; 
And all perforce to make her him to love. 
Ah! who can love the worker of her 

smart ? 
A thousand charmes he formerly did 

prove, 
Yet thousand charmes could not her sted- 

fast hart remove. 



Soone as that virgin knight he saw in 

place. 
His wicked bookes in hast he overthrew, 
Not caring his long labours to deface ; 
And, fiercely running to that Lady trew, 
A murdrous knife out of his pocket drew, 
The which he thought, for villeinous de- 

spight. 
In her tormented bodie to embrew: 
But the stout Damzell, to him leaping 

light, 
His cursed hand withheld, and maistered 

his might. 



From her, to whom his fury first he 
ment, 
The wicked weapon rashly he did wrest, 
And, turning to herself e, his fell intent, 
Unwares it strooke into her snowie chest, 
That litle drops empurpled her faire brest. 
Exceeding wroth therewith the virgin 

grew, 
Albe the wound were nothing deepe im- 
prest, 
And fiercely forth her mortall blade she 

drew. 
To give him the reward for such vile out- 
rage dew. 

xxxiv. 

So mightily she smote him, that to 

ground 
He fell halfe dead : next stroke him should 

have slaine, 
Had not the Lady, which by him stood 

bound, 



286 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book hi. 



Dernly unto her called to abstains 
From doing him to dy For else her 

paine 
Should be remedilesse ; sith none but hee 
Which wrought it could the same recure 

again e. 
Therewith she stayd her hand, loth stayd 

to bee ; 
For life she him envyde, and long'd re- 
venge to see : 



And to him said : ' Thou wicked man, 
whose meed 
For so huge mischiefe and vile villany 
Is death, or if that ought doe death ex- 
ceed ; 
Be sure that nought may save thee from 

to dy 
But if that thou this Dame do presently 
Restore unto her health and former 

state: 
This doe, and live, els dye undoubtedly.' 
He, glad of life, that lookt for death but 

late, 
Did yield him selfe right willing to pro- 
long his date : 

XXXVI. 

And, rising up, gan streight to over- 
looke 
Those cursed leaves, his charmes back 

to reverse. 
Full dreadfuU thinges out of that balefull 

booke 
He red, and measur'd many a sad verse. 
That horrour gan the virgins hart to perse. 
And her faire locks up stared stiffe on end. 
Hearing him those same bloody lyues re- 
he rse ; 
And, all the while he red, she did extend 
Her sword high over him, if ought he did 
offend. 

XXXVII. 

Anon she gan perceive the house to 

quake, 
And all the dores to rattle round about: 
Yet all that did not her dismaied make. 
Nor slack her threatfull hand for daungers 

dout : 
But still with stedfast eye and courage 

stout 
Abode, to weet what end would come to 

all. 
At last that mightie chaine, which round 

about 
Her tender waste was wound, adowne gan 

fall. 
And that great brasen pillour broke in 

peeces small. 



XXXVIII. 

The cruell Steele, which thrild her dy- 
ing hart,"^ 

Fell softly forth, as of his owne accord, 

And the wyde wound, which lately did 
dispart 

Her bleeding brest, and riven bowels 
gor'd. 

Was closed up, as it had not beene bor'd ; 

And every part to safety full sownd. 

As she were never hurt, was soone re- 
stord. 

Tho, when she felt her selfe to be un- 
bownd 

And perfect hole, prostrate she fell unto 
the grownd. 

XXXIX. 

Before faire Britomart she fell prostrate, 
Saying ; ' Ah noble knight ! what worthy 

meede 
Can wretched Lady, quitt from wo full 

state, 
Yield you in lieu of this your gracious 

deed? 
Your vertue selfe her owne reward shall 

breed. 
Even immortal prayse and gloiy wyde. 
Which I your vassall, by your prowesse 

freed. 
Shall through the world make to be noti- 

fyde, 
And goodly well advaunce that goodly 

well was tryde.' 



But Britomart, uprearing her from 

grownd, 
Said : ' Gentle Dame, reward enough I 

weene. 
For many labours more then I have 

found. 
This, that in safetie now I have you 

scene. 
And meane of your deliverance have 

beene. 
Henceforth, faire Lady, comfort to you 

take, 
And put away remembrance of late 

teene ; 
Insted thereof, know that your loving 

Make 
Hath no lesse griefe endured for your 

gentle sake.' 



She much was cheard to heare him 
mentiond. 
Whom of all living wightes she loved 
best. 



CANTO XII.] 



FAERIE QUi. 



Then laid the noble Champiouesse strong 

bond 
Upon th' enchaunter which had her dis- 

trest • 
So sore, and with foule outrages opprest. 
With that great chaine, wherewith not 

long ygoe 
He bound that pitteous Lady prisoner, 

now relest, 
Himself e she bound, more worthy to be 

so, 
And captive with her led to wretched- 

nesse and wo. 

XLII. 

Returning back, those goodly rowmes, 

which erst 
She saw so rich and royally arayd, 
Now vanisht utterly and cleane subverst 
She found, and all their glory quite 

decayd ; 
That sight of such a chaunge her much 

dismayd 
Thence forth descending to that perlous 

porch 
Those dreadfull flames she also found 

delayd 
And quenched quite like a consumed 

torch, 
That erst all entrers wont so cruelly to 

scorch. 

XLIII. 

More easie issew now then entrance 

late 
She found ; for now that fained dreadfull 

fl^e. 
Which chokt the porch of that enchaunted 

gate 
And j)assage bard to all that thither came. 
Was vanisht quite, as it were not the 

same, 




And gave her 

passe. 
Th' Enchaunter seh.. 

did frame 
To have efforst the love oi 
Seeing his worke now 

engrieved was. 

XLIV. 

But when the Victoresse arrived there 
Where late she left the pensife Scudamore 
With her own trusty Squire, both full of 

feare. 
Neither of them she found where she them 

lore: 
Thereat her noble hart was stonisht sore ; 
But most faire Amoret, whose gentle 

spright 
Now gan to feede on hope, which she 

before 
Conceived had, to see her own deare 

knight, 
Being thereof beguyld, was fild with new 

affright. 

XLV. 

But he, sad man, when he had long in 

drede 
Awayted there for Britomarts returne, 
Yet saw her not, nor signe of her good 

speed, 
His expectation to despaire did turne. 
Misdeeming sure that her those flames did 

burne ; 
And therefore gan advize with her old 

Squire, 
Who her deare nourslings losse no lesse 

did mourne. 
Thence to depart for further aide t'en- 

quire : 
Where let them wend at will, whilest here 

I doe respire. 



iIE FOURTH BOOKE 

OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

':ng the legend of cambel and triamond, or of friendship. 



lit^^a 



The rugged forhead, that with grave 

foresight 
Welds kingdomes causes and affaires of 

state, 
My looser rimes (I wote) doth sharply 

wite 
F.or praising love as 1 have done of late, 
And magnifying lovers deare debate ; 
By which fraile youth is oft to follie led, 
Through false allurement of that pleasing 

baite, 
That better were in vertues discipled, 
Then with vaine poemes weeds to have 

their fancies fed. 



Such ones ill judge of love that cannot 

love, 
Ne in their frosen hearts feele kindly 

flame : 
Forthy they ought not thing unknowne 

reprove, 
Ne naturall affection faultlesse blame 
For fault of few that have abusd the 

same ; 
For it of honor and all vertue is 
The roote, and brings forth glorious 

flowres of fame. 
That crowne true lovers with immortall 

blis, 
The meed of them that love, and do not 

live amisse. 

III. 

Which who so list looke backe to former 

ages, 
And call to count the things that then 

were donne. 
Shall find that all the workes of those 

wise sages, 



And brave exploits which great Heroes 

wonne. 
In love were either ended or begunne : 
Witnesse the father of Philosophic, 
Which to his Critias, shaded oft from 

sunne. 
Of love full manie lessons did apply, 
The which these Stoicke censours cannot 

well deny. 

IV. 

To such therefore I do not sing at all ; 
But to that sacred Saint my soveraigne 

Queene, 
In whose chast brest all bountie naturall 
And treasures of true love enlocked beene, 
Bove all her sexe that ever yet was seene. 
To her I sing of love, that loveth best, 
And best islov'd of all alive, I weene, 
To her this song most fitly is addrest, 
The Queene of love, and Prince of peace 

from heaven blest. • 



Which that she may the better deigne 

to heare, 
Do thou, dred infant, Venus dearling 

dove, 
From her high spirit chase imperious 

feare, 
And use of awfull Majestie remove. 
Insted thereof with drops of melting 

love, 
Deawd with ambrosiall kisses, by thee 

gotten 
From thy sweete smyling mother from 

above, 
Sprinckle her heart, and haughtie courage 

soften, 
That she may hearke to love, and reade 

this lesson often. 



288 



CANTO 1.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



289 



CANTO I. 

Fayre Britomart saves Amoret: 

Duessa discord breedes 
Twixt vScudamour and Blandamour : 

Their fight and warlike deedes. 



Of lovers sad calamities of old 
Full many piteous stories doe remaine, 
But none more piteous ever was ytold 
Then that of Amorets hart-binding oliaine, 
And this of Florimels unworthie paine 
The deare compassion of whose bitter tit 
My softened heart so sorely doth con- 

straine, 
That I with teares full oft doe pittie it, 
And oftentimes doe wish it never had 

bene writ. 

II. 

For from the time that Scudamour her 
bought 

In perilous tight she never joyed day ; 

A perilous fight, when he with force her 
brought 

From twentie Knights that did him all 
assay ; 

Yet fairely well he did them all dismay. 

And with great glorie both the shield of 
love 

And eke the Ladie selfe he brought away, 

Whom having wedded, as did him be- 
hove, 

A new unknowen mischiefe did from him 
remove. 

III. 

For that same vile Enchauntour Busy- 
ran, 
The very selfe same day that she was 

wedded, 
Amidst the bridale feast, whilest every 

man, 
Surcharg'd with wine, were heedlesse and 

ill-hedded, 
All bent to mirth before the bride was 

bedded, 
Brought in that mask of love which late 

was showen ; 
And there the Ladie, ill of friends be- 

stedded, 
By way of sport, as oft in maskes is 

knowen, 
Conveyed quite away to living wight 

unknowen. 

IV. 

Seven moneths he so her kept in bitter 
smart, 



Because his sinfull 1 k ir would noi 

serve, 
Untill such time as noble Bri. art 
Released her, that else was likt sterve 
Through cruell knife that her deart, ." 

did ker^'.'^ : 
And now she if^^with her upon the way 
Marching in lovely wise, that could de- 
serve 
No spot of blame, though spite did oft 

assay 
To blot her with dishonor of so faire a 
pray. 

v. 

Yet should it be a pleasant rale, to teli 
The diverse usage, and demeanure daint, 
That each to other made, as oft befell : 
For Amoret right fearefull was and faint 
Lest she with blame her honor should 

attaint. 
That everie word did tremble as she 

spake, 
And everie looke was coy and wondrous 

quaint, 
And everie limbe that touched her did 

quake ; 
Yet could she not but curteous counte- 
nance to her make. 



For well she wist, as true it was indeed, 
That her lives Lord and patrone of her 

health 
Right well deserved, as his duefull meed, 
Her love, her service, and her utmost 

wealth : 
All is his justly that all freely dealth. 
Nathlesse her honor, dearer than her 

life. 
She sought to save, as thing reserv'd from 

stealth. 
Die had she lever with Enchanters knife 
Then to be false in love, profest a virgins 

wife. 

VII. 

Thereto her feare was made so much 

the greater 
Through fine abusion of that Briton 

mayd ; 
Who, for to hide her faiue(\ sex the better 



290 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



And raaske her wounded mind, both did 

and sayd 
Full many things so doubtfuU to be wayd, 
That well she wist not what by them to 

gesse : 
For other-whiles to her she purpos made 
Of love, and other-whiles of lustfulnesse. 
That much she feard his mind would 

grow to some excesse. 

VIII. 

His will she feard ; for him she surely 

thought 
To be a man, such as indeed he seemed ; 
And much the more by that he lately 

wrought. 
When her from deadly thraldome he 

redeemed. 
For which no service she too much 

esteemed: 
Yet dread of shame and doubt of fowle 

dishonor 
Made her not yeeld so much as due she 

deemed. 
Yet Britomart attended duly on her. 
As well became a knight, and did to her 

all honor. 

IX. 

It so befell one evening, that they came 

Unto a Castell, lodged there to bee, 

"Where many a knight, and many a lovely 
Dame, 

Was then assembled deeds of armes to 
see: 

Amongst all which was none more faire 
then shee. 

That many of them mov'd to eye her sore. 

The custome of that place was such, 
that hee. 

Which had no love nor lemman there in 
store, 

Should either winne him one, or lye with- 
out the dore. 

X. 

Amongst the rest there was a jolly 

knight, 
Who, being asked for his love, avow'd 
That fairest Amoret was his by right. 
And offred that to justifie alowd. 
The warlike virgine, seeing his so prowd 
And boastfull chalenge, wexed inlie 

wroth ; 
But for the present did her anger shrowd, 
And sayd, her love to lose she was full 

loth. 
But either he should neither of them have, 

or both. 

XI. 

So foorth they went, and both together 
giusted ; 



But that same younker soone was over- 

throwne, 
And made repent that he had rashly 

lusted 
For thing unlawfull, that was not his 

owne: 
Yet since he seemed valiant, though un- 

knowne, 
She, that no lesse was courteous then 

stout. 
Cast how to salve, that both the custome 

shown e 
Were kept, and yet that Knight not locked 

out; 
That seem'd full hard t' accord two things 

so far in dout. 

XII. 

The Seneschall was cal'd to deeme the 
right : 

Whom she requir'd, that first fayre Am- 
oret 

Might be to her allow 'd, as to a Knight 

That did her win and free from chalenge 
set: 

Which straight to her was yeelded with- 
out let. 

Then, since that strange Knights love 
from him was quitted. 

She claim'd that to her selfe, as Ladies 
det, 

He as a Knight might justly be admitted ; 

So none should be out shut, sith all of 
loves were fitted. 

XIII. 

With that, her glistring helmet she un- 
laced ; 
Which doft, her golden lockes, that were 

upbound 
Still in a knot, unto her heeles downe 

traced. 
And like a silken veile in compasse round 
About her baeke and all her bodie wound : 
Like as the shining skie in summers night. 
What time the dayes with scoi-ching heat 

abound, • 
Is creasted all with lines of firie light. 
That it prodigious seemes in common peo- 
ples sight. 

XIV. 

Such when those Knights and Ladies all 

about 
Beheld her, all were with amazement 

smit, 
And every one gan grow in secret dout 
Of this and that, according to each wit : 
Some thouglit that some enchantment 

faygned it ; 
Some, that Bellona in that warlil^e wisQ 



CANTO I.l 



THE PAERIE QUEENE. 



291 



To them appear'd, with shield and armour 
fit; 

Some, that it was a maske of strange dis- 
guise : 

So diversely each one did suudrie doubts 
devise. 

XV. 

But that young Knight, which through 

her gentle deed 
Was to that goodly fellowship restor'd. 
Ten thousand thankes did yeeld her for 

her meed, 
And, doubly overcommen, her ador'd. 
So did they all their former strife accord ; 
And eke fayre Amoret, now freed from 

feare, 
More franke affection did to her afford, 
And to her bed, which she was wont for- 

beare, 
Now freely drew, and found right safe 

assurance theare. 

XVI. 

Where all that night they of their loves 

did treat, 
And hard adventures, twixt themselves 

alone. 
That each the other gan with passion 

great 
And griefull pittie privately bemone. 
The morow next, so soone as Titan shone, 
They both uprose and to their waies them 

dight : 
Long wandred they, yet never met with 

none 
That to their willes could them direct 

aright, 
Or to them tydings tell that mote their 

harts delight. 



Lo ! thus they rode, till at the last they 

spide 
Two armed Knights that toward them did 

pace. 
And ech of them had ryding by his side 
A Ladie, seeming in so far re a space : 
Rut Ladies none they were, albee in face 
And outward shew faire semblance they 

did beare ; 
For under maske of beautie and good 

grace 
Vile treason and fowle falshood hidden 

were, 
That mote to none but to the warie wise 

appeare. 

xviii. 
The one of them the false Duessa hight. 
That now had chang'd her former wonted 

hew; 



For she could d'on so manie shapes in 
sight. 

As ever could Cameleon colours new ; 

So could she forge all colours, save the 
trew. 

The other no whit better was then shee. 

But that such as she was she plaine did 
shew ; 

Yet otherwise much worse, if worse might 
bee. 

And dayly more offensive unto each de- 
gree. 

XIX. 

Her name was Ate, mother of debate 
And all dissention which doth dayly grow 
Amongst fraile men, that many a publike 

state. 
And many a private oft doth overthrow. 
Her false Duessa, who full well did know 
To be most tit to trouble noble knights 
Which hunt for honor, raised from below 
Out of the dwellings of the damned 

sprights. 
Where she in darknes wastes her cursed 

dales and nights. 

XX. 

Hard by the gates of hell her dwelling 

is; 
There, whereas all the plagues and harmes 

abound 
Which punish wicked men that walke 

amisse : 
It is a darksome delve farre under ground. 
With thornes and barren brakes environd 

round. 
That none the same may easily out-win : 
Yet many waies to enter may be found. 
But none to issue forth when one is in : 
For discord harder is to end then to begin. 

XXI. 

And all within, the riven walls were hung 
With ragged monuments of times fore- 
past. 
All which the sad effects of discord sung: 
There were rent robes and broken scep- 
ters plast ; 
Altars defyld, and holy things defast; 
Disshivered speares, and shields ytorne 

in twaine ; 
Great cities ransackt, and strong castles 

rast ; 
Nations captived, and huge armies slaine : 
Of all which mines there some relicks did 
remaine. 

XXII. 

There was the signe of antique Babylon ; 
Of fatall Thebes; of Rome that raigned 
long; 



292 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Of sacred Salem ; aud sad Iliou, 
For memorie of which 011 high there hong 
The golden Apple, cause of all tlieir wrong, 
For which the three faire Goddesses did 

strive : 
There also was the name of Nimrod 

strong ; 
Of Alexander, and his Princes five 
Which shar'd to them the spoiles that he 

had got alive. 

XXIII. 

And there the relicks of the drunken 

fraj% 
The which amongst the Lapithees befell ; 
And of the bloodie feas!, which sent away 
So many Centaures drunken soules to hell, 
That under great Alcides furie fell ; 
And of the dreadfull discord, which did 

drive 
The noble Argonauts to outrage fell ; 
That each of life sought others to deprive, 
All mindlesse of the Golden tieece, which 

made them strive. 



And eke of private persons many moe, 
That were too long a worke to count them 

all; 
Some, of sworne friends that did their 

faith forgoe ; 
Some, of borne brethren prov'd unnatu- 

rall ; 
Some, of deare lovers foes perpetuall : 
Witnesse their broken bandes there to be 

scene. 
Their girlonds rent, their bowres de- 

spoyled all ; 
The moniments whereof there byding 

beene, 
As plaiue as at the first when they were 

fresh and greene. 

XXV. 

Such was her house within ; but all 

without, 
The barren ground was full of wicked 

weedes, 
Which she her selfe had sowen all about, 
Now growen great, at first of little seedes, 
The seedes of evill wordes and factious 

deedes ; 
Which, when to ripenesse due they 

growen arre, 
Bring foorth ah infinite increase, that 

breedes 
Tumultuous trouble, and contentious 

Jarre, 
The which most often end in bloudshed 

and in warre. 



XXVI. 

And those same cursed seedes doe also 

serve 
To her for b:ead, and yeeld her living 

food : 
For life it is to her, when others sterve 
Through mischievous debate and deadly 

feood. 
That she may sucke their life, and drinke 

their blood, 
With which she from her childhood had 

bene fed ; 
For she at first was borne of hellish brood, 
And by infernall furies nourished; 
That by her monstrous shape might easily 

be red. 

XXVII. 

Her face most fowle and filthy was to 
see, 

With squinted eyes contrarie wayes in- 
tended. 

And loathly mouth, unmeete a mouth to 
bee, 

That nought but gall and venim compre- 
hended. 

And wicked wordes that God and man 
offended. 

Her lying tongue was in two parts divided, 

And both the parts did speake, and both 
contended ; 

And as her tongue so was her hart dis- 
cided. 

That never thoght one thing, but doubly 
stil was guided. 

XXVIII. 

Als as she double spake, so heard she 

double. 
With matchlesse eares deformed and dis- 
tort, 
Fild with false rumors and seditious 

trouble, 
Bred in assemblies of the vulgar sort, 
That still are led with every light report : 
And as her eares, so eke her feet were 

odde, 
And much unlike ; th' one long, the other 

short, 
And both misplast ; that, wiien th' one 

forward yode. 
The other backe retired and contrarie 

trode. 

XXIX. 

Likewise unequall were her handes 

twain e ; 
That one did reach the other pusht away; 
That one did make the other mard againe, 
And sought to bring all things unto decay ; 
Whereby great riches, gathered manie a t 

day. 






CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



293 



She in short space did often bring to 

nought, 
And their possessours often did dismay : 
For all lier studie was and all her thought 
How siie might overthrow the tilings that 

Concord wrought. 



So much her malice did her might sur- 
pas, 
That even th' Almightie selfe she did 

maligne, 
Because to man so mercif ull he was, 
And unto all his creatures so benigne, 
Sith she her selfe was of his grace in- 

digne ; 
For all this worlds faire workmanship 

she tride 
Unto his last confusion to bring, 
And that great golden chaine quite to 

divide. 
With which it blessed Concord hath to- 
gether tide. 



Such was that hag which with Duessa 

roade ; 
And, serving her in her malitious use 
To hurt good knights, was, as it were, her 

baude 
To sell her borrowed beautie to abuse : 
For though, like withered tree that 

wanteth juyce. 
She old and crooked were, yet now of late 
As fresh and fragrant as the floure-deluce 
She was become, by channge of her 

estate, 
And made full goodly joyance to her 

new-found mate. 



Her mate, he was a jollie youthfull 

knight 
That bore great sway in armes and 

chivalrie. 
And was indeed a man of mickle might ; 
His name was Blandamour, that did de- 

scrie 
His fickle mind full of inconstancie : 
And now hiniselfe he fitted had right well 
With two companions of like qualitie, 
Faithlesse Duessa, and false Paridell, 
That whether were more false full hard it 

is to tell. 

XXXIII. 

Now when this gallant with his goodly 
crew 
From farve espide the famous Britomart, 
Like knight adventurous in outward 



With his faire paragon, his conquests part, 
Approching nigh, eftsoones his w^anton 

hart 
Was tickled with delight, and jesting 

sayd ; 
' Lo ! there. Sir Paridel, for j^our desart 
Good lucke presents you with yond lovelj^ 

mayd, 
For pitie that ye want a fellow for your 

ayd.' 

xxxiv. 

By that the lovely paire drew nigh to 
bond : 
Whom when as Paridel more plaine be- 
held, 
Albee in heart he like affection fond, 
Yet mindful! how he late by one was feld 
That did those armes and that same 

scutchiou weld, 
He had small lust to buy his love so 

deare, 
But answered ; ' Sir, him wise I never 

held. 
That, having once escaped perill neare, 
Would afterwards afresh the sleeping 
evill reare. 



* This knight too late his manhood and 

his might 
I did assay, that me right dearely cost ; 
Ne list I for revenge provoke new fight, 
Ne for light Ladies love that soone is 

lost.' 
The hot-spurre youth so scorning to be 

crost, 
' Take then to you this Dame of mine,' 

(quoth bee) 
' And I, without your perill or your cost, 
Will chalenge yond same other for my 

fee.' 
So forth he fiercely priekt that one him 

scarce could see. 

XXXVI. 

The warlike Britonesse her soone ad- 

drest. 
And with such uncouth welcome did 

receave 
Her fayned Paramour, her forced guest, 
That being forst his saddle soone to leave. 
Him selfe he did of his new love deceave ; 
And made him selfe thensample of his 

foUie. 
Which done, she passed forth, not taking 

leave, 
And left him now as sad, as w^hilome 

jollie. 
Well warned to beware with whom he 

dar'd to dallie. 



294 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



XXXVII. 

Which when his other companie heheld, 

They to his succour ran with readie ayd ; 

And, finding him unable once to weld, 

They reared him on horsebacke and up- 
stayd, 

Till on his way they had him forth con- 
vayd: 

And all the way, with wondrous griefe of 
mynd 

And shame, he shewd him selfe to be dis- 
may d 

More for the love which he had left be- 
hynd, 

Then that which he had to Sir Paridel 
resynd. 

XXXVIII. 

Nathlesse he forth did march, well as 

he might. 
And made good semblance to his com- 

panie. 
Dissembling his disease and evill plight ; 
Till that ere long they chaunced to espie 
Two other knights, that towards them did 

ply 

With speedie course, as bent to charge 

them new : 
Whom when as Blandamour approching 

nie 
Perceiv'd to be such as they seenid in 

vew, 
He was full wo, and gan his former griefe 

renew. 

XXXIX. 

For th' one of them he perfectly de- 

scride 
To be Sir Scudamour, by that he bore 
The God of love with wings displayed 

wide 
Whom mortally he hated evermore, 
Both for his worth, that all men did 

adore. 
And eke because his love he wonne by 

right : 
Which when he thought, it grieved him 

full sore, 
That, through the bruses of his former 

fight. 
He now unable was to wreake his old 

despight. 

XL. 

Forthy he thus to Paridel bespake : 
' Faire Sir, of friendship let me now you 

pray. 
That as I late adventured for your sake. 
The hurts whereof me now from battell 

stay, 
Ye will me now with like good turne 

repay, 
And justifie my cause on yonder knight.' 



' Ah ! Sir,' (said Paridell) ' do not dismay 
Your selfe for this ; my selfe will for you 

fight. 
As ye have done for me : the left hand 

rubs the right.' 



With that he put his spurres unto his 

steed, 
With speare in rest, and toward him did 

fare. 
Like shaft out of a bow preventing speed : 
But Scudamour was shortly well aware 
Of his approch, and gan him selfe prepare 
Him to receive with entertainment meete. 
So furiously they met, that either bare 
The other downe under their horses 

feete. 
That what of them became themselves 

did scarsly weete. 



As when two billowes in the Irish 
sowiides. 

Forcibly driven with contrarie tydes. 

Do meete together, each abacke re- 
bo wndes 

With roaring rage ; and dashing on all 
sides, 

That filleth all the sea with fome, divydes 

The doubtfull current into divers wayes. 

So fell those two in spight of both their 
prydes ; 

But Scudamour himselfe did soone up- 
rayse, 

And, mounting light, his foe for lying 
long upbrayes : 



Who, rolled on an heape, lay still in 
swound 

All carelesse of his taunt and bitter rayle ; 

Till that the rest him seeing lie on ground 

Ran hastily, to weete what did him ayle. 

Where finding that the breath gan him to 
fayle, 

With busie care they strove him to 
awake, 

And dofthis helmet, and undid his may le: 

So much they did, that at the last they 
brake 

His slomber, yet so mazed that he noth- 
ing spake. 

XLIV. 

Which when as Blandamour beheld, he 

sayd ; 
' False faitour Scudamour, that hast by 

slight 
And foule advantage this good Knight i 

dismayd, 






CANTO I.l 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



295 



A Kuight much better then thy selfe 

behight, 
Well falles it thee that I am not in plight 
This day to wreake the dammage by thee 

douue. 
Such is thy wont, that still when any 

Knight 
Is weakned, then thou doest him over- 

roniie : 
So hast thou to thy selfe false honour 

often wouue.' 



He little answer 'd, but in manly heart 
His raightie indignation did forbeare ; 
Which was not yet so secret, but some 

part 
Thereof did in his frouning face appeare : 
Like as a gloomie cloud, the which doth 

beare 
An hideous storme, is by the Northerne 

blast 
Quite overblowne, yet doth not passe so 

cleare, 
But that it all the skie doth overcast 
With darknes dred, and threatens all the 

world to wast. 



* Ah gentle knight! ' then false Duessa 
sayd, 

' Why do ye strive for Ladies love so sore, 

Whose chiefe desire is love and friendly 
aid 

Mongst gentle Knights to nourish ever- 
more ? 

Ne be ye wroth, Sir Scudamour, there- 
fore 

That she, your love, list love another 
knight, 

Ne do your selfe dislike a whit the more ; 

For Love is free, and led with selfe 
delight, 

Ne will enforced be with maisterdome or 
might.' 

XLVII. 

So false Duessa ; but vile Ate thus : 
' Both foolish knights ! I can but laugh 

at both, 
That strive and storme with stirre out- 
rageous 
For her,'that each of you alike doth loth, 
And loves another, with whom now she 
goth 
I In lovely wise, and sleepes, and sports, 
! and playes ; 

! Whilest both you here with many a 
[ cursed otli 

Sweare she is yours, and stirre up bloudie 
frayes, 



To win a willow bough, whilest other 
weares the bayes. 

XLVIII. 

'Vile hag!' (sayd Scudamour) 'why 

dost thou lye. 
And falsly seekst a vertuous wight to 

shame ? ' 
' Fond knight,' (sayd she) ' the thing that 

with this eye 
I saw, why should I doubt to tell the 

same? ' 
'Then tell,' (quoth Blandamour) 'and 

feare no blame : 
Tell what thou saw'st, raaulgre who so it 

heares.' 
' I saw ' (quoth she) ' a stranger knight, 

whose name 
I wote not well, but in his shield he 

beares 
(That well I wote) the heads of many 

broken speares ; 

XLIX. 

' I saw him have your Araoret at will ; 
I saw him kisse ; I saw him her embrace ; 
I saw him sleepe with her all night his 

fill; 
All manie nights ; and manie by in place 
That present were to testifie the case.' 
Which when as Scudamour did heare, his 

heart 
Was thrild with inward griefe: as when 

in chace 
The Parthian strikes a stag with shivering 

dart. 
The beast astonisht stands in middest of 

his smart. 

L. 

So stood Sir Scudamour when this he 
heard, 

Ne vv'ord had he to speake for great dis- 
may, 

But lookt on Glance grim; who woxe 
afeard 

Of outrage for the words which she heard 
say, 

Albee untrue she wist them by assay. 

But Blandamour, whenas he did espie 

His chaunge of cheere that anguish did 
bewray. 

He woxe full blithe, as he had got there- 
by, 

And gan thereat to triumph without vie- 
to rie. 

LI. 

' Lo ! recreant,' (sayd he) ' the fruitlesse 
end 
Of thy vaine boast, and spoile of love mis- 
gotten, 



296 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Whereby the name of knight-hood thou 

dust shend, 
And all true lovers with dishonor blotten : 
All things not rooted well will sooue be 

rotten.' 
'Fy, fy ! false knight,' (then false Duessa 

cryde) 
' Unworthy life, that love with guile hast 

gotten ; 
Be thou, where ever thou do go or 

ryde, 
Loathed of ladies all, and of all knights 

defyde ! ' 

LII. 

But Scudamour, for passing great de- 

spight, 
Staid not to answer ; scarcely did ref raine 
But that in all those knights and ladies 

sight 
He for revenge had guiltlesse Glance 

slaine : 
But, being past, he thus began araaine : 
'False traitour squire! false squire of 

falsest knight ! 
Why doth mine liand from thine avenge 

abstaiue. 
Whose Lord hath done my love this foule 

despight ? 
Why do I not it w^eake on thee, now in 

my might? 



' Discourteous, disloyall Britomart, 
Untrue to God, and unto man unjust! 
What vengeance due can equall thy de- 

sart, 
That hast with shamefull spot of sinful! 

lust 
Defird the pledge committed to thy trust? 
Let ugly shame and endlesse infamy 
Colour thy name with foule reproaches 

rust! 
Yet thou, false Squire, his fault shalt 

deare aby, 
And with thy punishment his penance 

shalt supply.' 



The aged Dame, him seeing so enraged. 
Was dead with feare ; nathlesse, as ueede 

required. 
His flaming f urie sought to have assuaged 
With sober words, that sufferance desired, 
Till time the tryall of her truth expyred ; 
And evermore sought Britomart to cleare : 
But he the morewith furious rage was 

fyred, 
And thrise his hand to kill her did up- 

reare, 
And thrise he drew it backe; so did at 

last forbeare. 



CANTO 11. 

Blandainour winnes false Florimell ; 

Paridell for her strives : 
They are accorded : Agap6 

Doth lengthen her sonnes lives. 



Firebrand of hell, first tynd in Phlege- 

ton, 
By thousand furies, and from thence out 

thro wen 
Into this world to worke confusion, 
And set it all on fire by force unknowen, 
Is wicked discord ; whose small sparkes 

once blowen 
None but a God or godlike man can slake; 
Such as was Orpheus, that, when strife 

was growen 
Amongst those famous ympes of Greece, 

did take 
His silver Harpe in hand and shortly 

friends them make : 

II. 

Or such as that celestiall Psalmist was, 
That, when the wicked feend his Lord 
tormented, 



With heavenly notes, that did all other 
pas 

The outrage of his furious fit relented. 

Such Musicke is wise words, with time 
concented, 

To moderate stiffe mindes disposd to 
strive: 

Such as that prudent Romane well in- 
vented. 

What time his people into partes did rive, 

Them reconcyld againe, and to their homes 
did drive. 

III. 

Such us'd wise Glance to that wrathfull 
knight. 

To calme the tempest of his troubled 
thought : 

Yet Blandamour with termes of foule de- 
spight, 

And Paridell her scornd, and set at nought, 

As old and crooked and not good for ought. 



CANTO II.] 



TEIE FAERIE QUEENE. 



297 



Both they unwise, and warelesse of the 

evill 
That by themselves unto themselves is 

wrought 
Through that false witch, and that foule 

aged drevill ; 
The one a feend, the other an incarnate 

devill. 

IV. 

With whom as they thus rode accom- 
panide, 
They were encountred of a lustie Knight 
That had a goodly Ladie by his side, 
To whom he made great dalliance and de- 
light : 
It was to weete the bold Sir Ferraugh 

hight, 
He that from Braggadocchio whilome reft 
Tlie snowy Florimell, whose beautie bright 
Made him seeme happie for so glorious 

theft; 
Yet was it in due triall but a waudring 
weft. 

V. 

Which when as Gland amour, whose 

fancie light 
Was alwaies flitting as the wavering wind 
After each beautie that appeard in sight, 
Beheld, eftsoones it prickt his wanton 

mind 
With sting of lust that reasons eye did 

blind. 
That to Sir Paridell these words he sent: 
' Sir knight, why ride ye dumpish thus 

behind, 
Since so good fortune doth to you present 
So fay re a spoyle, to make you joyous 

meriment?' 

VI. ^ 

But Paridell, that had too late a tryall 
Of the bad issue of his counsell vaine, 
List not to hearke, but made this faire 

denyall : 
' Last turne was mine, well proved to my 

paine ; 
This now be yours ; God send you better 

gaine ! ' 
Whose scoffed words he taking halfe in 

scorne, 
Fiercely forth prickt his steed as in dis- 

daine 
Against that Knight, ere he him well could 

torne ; 
By means whereof he hath him lightly 

overborne. 

VII. 

Who, with the sudden stroke astonisht 
sore, 
Upon the ground awhile in slomber lay ; 
The whiles his love away the other bore, 



And, shewing her, did Paridell upbray ; 
*Lo! sluggish Knight, the victors happie 

pray ! 
So fortune friends the bold : ' whom Pari- 
dell 
Seeing so faire indeede, as he did say. 
His hart with secret envie gan to swell, 
And inly grudge at him that he had sped 
so well. 

VIII. 

Nathlesse proud man himselfe the other 

deemed, 
Having so peerelesse paragon ygot : 
For sure the fayrest Florimell him seemed 
To him was fallen for his happie lot, 
Whose like alive on earth he weened not : 
Therefore he her did court, did serve, did 

wooe, 
With humblest suit that he imagine mot, 
And all things did devise, and all things 

dooe, 
That might her love prepare, and liking 

win thereto©. 



She, in regard thereof, him recompenst 
AVith golden words and goodly counte- 
nance. 
And such fond favours sparingly dispenst : 
Sometimes him blessing with a light eye- 
glance. 
And coy lookes tempring with loose dal- 
liance; 
Sometimes estranging him in sterner wise ; 
That having cast him in a foolish trance, 
He seemed brought to bed in Paradise, 
Aiid prov'd himselfe most foole in what 
he seem'd most wise. 



So great a mistresse of her art she was, 
And perfectly practiz'd in womans craft. 
That though therein himselfe he thought 

to pas. 
And by his false allurements wylie draft 
Had thousand women of their love beraft. 
Yet now he was surpriz'd : for that false 

spright, 
Which that same witch had in this forme 

engraft, 
Was so expert in every subtile slight. 
That it could overreach the wisest earthly 

wight. 

XI. 

Yet he to her did dayly service more, 
And dayly more deceived was thereby ; 
Yet Paridell him envied therefore, 
As seeming plast in sole felicity: 
So blind is lust false colours to descry. 
But Ate soone discovering his desire, 



298 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



And finding now fit opportunity 

To stirre up strife twixt love and spight 



Did 



and ire, 



aim lie, 

privily put coles unto his secret fire. 



By sundry meanes thereto she prickt 

him forth ; 
Now with rememhrance of those spightfuU 

speaches, 
Now with opinion of his owne more 

worth, 
Now with recounting of like former 

breaches 
Made in their friendship, as that Hag 

him teaches : 
And ever when his passion is allayd. 
She it revives, and new occasion reaches ; 
That on a time, as they together way'd, 
He made him open chalenge, and thus 

boldly sayd ; 



' Too boastf ull Blandamoure ! too long I 

beare 
The open wrongs thou doest me day by 

day: 
Well know'st thou, when we friendship 

first did sweare. 
The covenant was, that every spoyle or 

pray 
Should equally be shard betwixt us 

tway. 
Where is my part then of this Ladie 

bright, 
Whom to thy selfe thou takest quite 

away ? 
Render therefore therein to me ray right. 
Or answere for thy wrong as shall fall 

out in fight.' 



Exceeding wroth thereat was Blanda- 

mour, 
And gan this bitter answere to him make : 
' Too foolish Paridell ! that fayrest floure 
Wouldst gather faine, and yet no paines 

wouldst take : 
But not so easie will I her forsake ; 
This hand her woune, this hand shall her 

defend.' 
With that they gan their shivering 

speares to shake. 
And deadly points at cithers breast to 

bend, 
Forgetfull each to have bene ever others 

frend. 

XV. 

Their firie steedes with so untamed 
forse 



Did beare them both to fell avenges end. 
That both their speares with pitilesse 

remorse 
Through shield and mayle and haberjeou 

did wend, 
And in their flesh a griesly passage rend. 
That with the furie of their owne affret 
Each other horse and man to ground did 

send ; 
Where, lying still awhile, both did for- 
get 
The perilous present stownd in which their 
lives were set. 



As when two warlike Brigandines at 
sea. 

With murdrous weapons arm'd to cruell 
fight, 

Do meete together on the watry lea, 

They stem me ech other with so fell 
despight. 

That with the shocke of their owne heed- 
lesse might 

Their wooden ribs are shaken nigh 
asonder. 

They which from shore behold the dread- 
full sight 

Of flashing fire, and heare the ordenance 
thonder, 

Do greatly stand amaz'd at such un- 
wonted wonder. 

XVII. 

At length they both upstarted in amaze, 
As men awaked rashly out of dreme, 
And round about themselves awhile did 

gaze ; 
Till seeing her, that Florimell did seme, 
In doubt to whom she victorie should 

deeme. 
Therewith their dulled sprights they 

edgd anew. 
And, drawing both their swords, with 

rage extreme. 
Like two mad mastiff es, each on other 

flew. 
And shields did share, and mailes did rash, 

and helmes did hew. 

XVIII. 

So furiously each other did assayle. 
As if their soules they would attonce 

have rent 
Out of their brests, that streames of 

blond did rayle 
Adowne, as if their springs of life were 

spent ; 
That all the ground with purple bloud 

was sprent. 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



299 



And all their armours staynd with bloudie 

gore ; 
Yet scarcely once to breath would they 

releut, 
So mortall was their malice, and so sore 
Become, of fayned friendship which they 

vow'd afore. 

XIX. 

And that which is for Ladies most 
besitting, 

To stint all strife and foster friendly 
peace, 

Was from those Dames so farre and so 
unfitting, 

As that, instead of praying them sur- 
cease. 

They did much more their cruelty en- 
crease ; 

Bidding them fight for honour of their 
love, 

And rather die then Ladies cause release : 

With which vaine termes somuch they did 
them move, 

That both resolv'd the last extremities to 
prove. 

XX. 

There they, I weene, would fight untill 

this day. 
Had not a Squire, even he the Squire of 

Dames, 
By great adventure travelled that way ; 
Who seeing both bent to so bloudy games. 
And both of old well knowing by their 

names. 
Drew nigh, to weete the cause of their 

debate : 
And first laide on those Ladies thousand 

blames. 
That did not seeke t'appease their deadly 

hate, 
But gazed on their harmes, not pittying 

their estate. 

XXI. 

And then those Knights he humbly did 

beseech 
To stay their hands till he awhile had 

spoken : 
Who lookt a little up at that his speech, 
Yet would not let their battell so be 

broken. 
Both greed ie fiers on other to be wroken : 
Yet he to them so earnestly did call, 
And them conjur'd by some well knowen 

token, 
That they at last their wrothf nil hands let 

fall. 
Content to heare him speake, and glad to 

rest withall. 



XXII. 

First he desir'd their cause of strife to 

see: 
They said, it was for love of Florimell. 
* Ah gentle knights!' (quoth he) 'how 

may that bee. 
And she so farre astray, as none can 

tell ? ' 
' Fond Squire,' full angry then sayd 

Faridell, 
' Seestnotthe Ladie there before thy face?' 
He looked backe, and, her avizing well, 
Weend, as he said, by that her outward 

grace 
That fay rest Florimell was present there 

in place. 

. XXIII. 

Glad man was he to see that joyous 

sight, 
For none alive but joy'd in Florimell, 
And lowly to her lowting thus behight: 
' Fayrest of faire, that fairenesse doest 

excell. 
This happie day I have to greete you well. 
In which you safe I see, whom thousand 

late 
Misdoubted lost through mischiefe that 

befell. 
Long may you live in health and happie 

state ! ' 
She litle answer'd him, but lightly did 

aggrate. 

XXIV. 

Then, turning to those Knights, he gan 
anew: 
'And you, Sir Blandanionr, and Paridell, 
That for this Ladie, present in your vew, 
Have rays'd this cruell warre and out- 
rage fell, 
Certes, me seemes, bene not advised well; 
But rather owght in friendship for her 

sake 
To joyne your force, their forces to repell 
That seeke perforce her from you both to 

take, 
And of your gotten spoyle their owne 
triumph to make.' 

XXV. 

Thereat Sir Blandamour, with counte- 
nance Sterne 

All full of wrath, thus fiercely him be- 
spake : 

' Aread, tliou Squire, that I the man may 
learne. 

That dare fro me thinke Florimell to 
take ! ' 

' Not one,' (quoth he) ' but many doe 
partake 



300 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Herein ; as thus: It lately so befell, 
Th;it Satyran a girdle did uptake 
Well kuowue to appertaine to Florimell, 
AVhich for her sake he wore, as him 
beseemed well. 



' But, when as she her selfe was lost 

and gone. 
Full many knights, that loved her like 

deare. 
Thereat did greatly grudge, that he alone 
That lost faire Ladies ornament should 

weare. 
And gan therefore close spight to him to 

beare ; 
"Which he to shun, and stop vile envies 

sting. 
Hath lately caus'd to be proclaim'd each 

where 
A solemne feast, with publike turneying. 
To which all knights with t'^em their 

Ladies are to bring : 



' And of them all she, that is fayrest 

found, 
Shall have that golden girdle for reward ; 
And of those Knights, who is most stout 

on ground, 
Shall to that fairest Ladie be prefard. 
Since therefore she her selfe is now your 

ward, 
To you that ornament of hers pertaines 
Against all those that chalenge it to gard 
And save her honour with your ventrous 

paines: 
That shall you win more glory than ye 

here find gaines.' 



When they the reason of his words had 
hard. 

They gan abate the rancour of their rage. 

And with their honours and their loves 
regard 

The furious flames of malice to asswage. 

Tho each to other did his faith engage, 

Like faithfull friends thenceforth to joyne 
in one 

With all their force, and battel 1 strong to 
wage 

Gainst all those knights, as their pro- 
fessed fone. 

That chaleng'd ought in Florimell, save 
they alone. 



So, well accorded, forth they rode 
together <^^ 



In friendly sort that lasted but a while ; 

And of all old dislikes they made fairs 
weather ; 

Yet all was forg'd and spred with golden 
foyle. 

That under it hidde hate and hollow 
guyle. 

Ne certes can that friendship long en- 
dure, 

However gay and goodly be the style, 

That doth ill cause or evill end enure ; 

For vertue is the band that bindeth harts 
most sure. 

XXX. 

Thus as they marched all in close dis- 
guise 
Of fayned love, they chaunst to overtake 
Two knights that lincked rode in lovely 

wise. 
As if they secret counsels did partake ; 
And each not farre behinde him had his 

make. 
To weete, two Ladies of most goodly hew, 
That twixt themselves did gentle purpose 

make, 
Unmindfull both of that discordfull crew, 
The which with speedie pace did after 
them purse w. 

XXXI. 

Who, as they now approched nigh at 

hand. 
Deeming them doughtie, as they did ap- 

peare. 
They sent that Squire afore, to under- 
stand 
What mote they be : who, viewing them 

more neare. 
Returned readie newes, that those same 

weare 
Two of the prowest Knights in Faery 

lond, 
And those two Ladies their two lovers 

deare ; 
Couragious Cambell, and stout Triamond, 
With Canacee and Cambine linckt in 

lovely bond. 

XXXII. 

Whylome, as antique stories tellen us, 
Those two were foes the fellonest on 

ground, 
And battell made the dreddest daunger- 

ous 
That ever shrilling trumpet did resound ; 
Though now their acts be no where to be 

found, 
As that renowmed Poet them compyled 
With warlike numbers and Heroicke 

sound, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



301 



Dau Chaucer, well of English undefyled, 
Oil Fames eternall beadroil worthie to be 
fyled. 

XXXIII. 

But wicked Time that all good thoughts 

doth waste, 
And workes of noblest wits to nought 

outweare, 
That famous moniment hath quite de- 

faste. 
And robd the world of threasure end- 

lesse deare, 
The which mote have enriched all us 

heare. 

cursed Eld ! the cankerworme of writs, 
How may these rimes, so rude as doth 

appeare, 
Hope to endure, sith workes of heavenly 

wits 
Are quite devourd, and brought to nought 

by little bits? 

xxxrv. 

Then pardon, O most sacred happie 

spirit ! 
That I thy labours lost may thus revive, 
And steale from thee the meede of thy 

due merit. 
That none durst ever whilest thou wast 

alive, 
And being dead in vaine yet many strive : 
Ne dare I like; but, through infusion 

sweete 
Of thine owne spirit which doth in me 

survive, 

1 follow here the footing of thy feete. 
That with thy meaning so I may the 

rather meete. 

XXXV. 

Cambelloes sister was fayre Canacee, 
That was the learnedst Ladie in her dayes, 
Well seene in everie science that mote 

bee. 
And every secret worke of natures wayes ; 
In wittie riddles, and in wise soothsayes; 
In power of herbes, and tunes of beasts 

and burds ; 
And, that augmented all her other 

prayse. 
She modest was in all her deedes and 

words. 
And wondrous chast of life, yet lov'd of 

Knights and Lords. 



Full many Lords and many Knights her 
loved. 
Yet she to none of them her liking lent, 
Ne ever was with fond affection moved. 



But rul'd her thoughts with goodly gov- 

ernement. 
For dread of blame and honours blemish- 

ment ; 
And eke unto her lookes a law she 

made. 
That none of them once out of order 

went, 
But like to warie Centonels well stayd, 
Still watcht on every side, of secret foes 

affrayd, 

XXXVII. 

So much the more as she refusd to 

love. 
So much the more she loved was and 

sought. 
That oftentimes unquiet strife did move 
Amongst her lovers, and great quarrels 

wrought, 
That oft for her in bloudie amies they 

fought. 
Which wi^xenas Cambell, that was stout 

an.i wise, . 
Perceiv'd would breede great mischief e, 

he bethought 
How to prevent ^he perill that mote rise, 
And turne both him and her to honour, 

in this wise. 



One day, when all that troupe of war- 
like wooers 

Assembled wei-e to weet whose she should 
bee. 

All mightie men and dreadfull derring- 
dooers. 

(The harder it to make them well agree) 

Amongst them all this end he did decree ; 

That, of them all w^hich love to her did 
make. 

They by consent should chose the stout- 
est three 

That with himselfe should combat for 
her sake. 

And of them all the victour should his 
sister take. 

XXXIX, 

Bold was the chalenge, as himselfe was 

bold. 
And courage full of haughtie hardiment, 
Approved oft in perils manifold, 
Which he atehiev'd to his great ornament: 
But yet his sisters skill unto him lent 
Most confidence and hope of happie speed. 
Conceived by a ring which she him sent, 
That, mongst the manie vertues which we 

reed. 
Had power to staunch al wounds that 

mortally did bleed. 



302 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Well was that riugs great vertue 

knowen to all ; 
That dread thereof and his redoubted 

might 
Did all that youthly rout so much appall, 
That none of them durst undertake the 

fight: 
More wise they weend to make of love 

delight 
Then life to hazard for faire Ladies looke ; 
And yet uucertaiue by such outward 

sight, 
Though for her sake they all that perill 

tooke, 
Whether she would them love, or in her 

liking brooke. 



Amongst those knights there were three 

brethren bold, 
Three bolder brethren never wereyborne. 
Borne of one mother in one happie mold. 
Borne at one burden in one happie morne ; 
Thrise happie mother, and thrise happie 

morne, 
That bore three such, three such not to be 

fond ! 
Her name was Agape, whose children 

werne 
All three as one ; the first bight Priamond, 
The second Dyamond, the youngest Tria- 

mond. 

XLII. 

Stout Priamond, but not so strong to 
strike ; 
Strong Diamond, but not so stout a 

knight ; 
But Triamond was stout and strong alike : 
On horsebacke used Triamond to fight, 
And Priamond on foote had more delight ; 
But horse and foote knew Diamond to 

wield : 
With curtaxe used Diamond to smite, 
And Triamond to handle speare and 

shield, 
But speare and curtaxe both usd Pria- 
mond in field. 



These three did love each other dearely 

well. 
And with so firme affection were allyde, 
As if but one soule in them all did dwell, 
Which did her powre into three parts di- 

vyde ; 
Like three faire branches budding farre 

and wide, 
That from one roote deriv'd their vitall 

sap: 



And like that roote that doth her life 

divide. 
Their mother was ; and had full blessed hap 
These three so noble babes to bring forth 

at one clap. 

XLIV. 

Their mother was a Fay, and had the 

skill 
Of secret things, and all the powres of 

nature, 
Which she by art could use unto her will. 
And to her service bind each living crea- 
ture. 
Through secret imderstanding of their 

feature. 
Thereto she was right faire, whenso her 

face 
She list discover, and of goodly stature: 
But she, as Fayes are wont, in privie 

place 
Did spend her dayes, and lov'd in forests 

wyld to space. 



There on a day a noble youthly knight. 
Seeking adventures in the salvage wood. 
Did by great fortune get of her the sight, 
As she sate carelesse by a cristall flood 
Combing her golden lockes, as seemd her 

good; 
And unawares upon her laying hold. 
That strove in vaine him long to have 

withstood. 
Oppressed her, and there (as it is told) 
Got these three lovely babes, that prov'd 

three champions bold. 



Which she with her long fostred in that 

wood. 
Till that to ripenesse of mans state they 

grew : 
Then shewing forth signes of their fathers 

blood, 
They loved armes, and knighthood did en- 
sew, 
Seeking adventures where they anie 

knew. 
Which when their mother saw, she gan to 

dout 
Their safetie; least by searching daun- 

gers new, 
And rash provoking perils all about. 
Their days mote be abridged through 

their corage stout. 

XLVII. 

Therefore desirous th' end of all their 
dayes 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



303 



To know, and them t' enlarge with long 

extent, 
By wondrous skill and many hidden 

wayes 
To the three fa tall sisters house she went. 
Farre under ground from tract of living 

went, 
Downe in the bottome of the deepe Abysse, 
Where Demogorgon, in dull darknesse 

pent 
Farre from the view of gods and heavens 

bliss, 
The hideous Chaos keepes, their dreadful! 

dwelling is. 



There she them found all sitting round 

about. 
The direfull distaife standing in the mid. 
And with unwearied fingers drawing out 
The lines of life, from living knowledge 

hid. 
Sad Clotho held the rocke, the whiles the 

thrid 
By griesly Lachesis was spun with paine. 
That crueil Atropos eftsoones undid, 
With cursed knife cutting the twist in 

twaine. 
Most wretched men, whose dayes depend 

on thrids so vaine ! 

XLIX. 

She, them saluting, there by them sate 
still 
Beholding how the thrids of life they 

span : 
And when at last she had beheld her fill, 
Trembling in heart, and looking pale and 

wan. 
Her cause of comming she to tell began. 
To whom tierce Atropos : ' Bold Fay, that 

durst 
Come see the secret of the life of man. 
Well worthie thou to be of Jove accurst, 
And eke thy childrens thrids to be asun- 
der burst ! ' 

L. 

Whereat she sore affrayd, yet her be- 
sought 
To graunt her boone, and rigour to abate, 
That she might see her childrens thrids 

forth brought. 
And know the measure of their utmost 

date 
To them ordained by eternall fate : 
Which Clotho graunting shewed her the 

same. 
That when she saw, it did her much amate 
To see their thrids so thin as spiders 
frame, 



And eke so short, that seemd their ends 
out shortly came. 



She then began them humbly to intreate 
To draw them longer out, and better 

twine, 
That so their lives might be prolonged 

late: 
But Lachesis thereat gan to repine. 
And sayd; 'Fond dame, that deem'st of 

things divine 
As of humane, that they may altred bee. 
And chaung'd at pleasure for those impes 

of thine ! 
Not so ; for what the Fates do once decree, 
■Not all the gods can chaunge, nor Jove 

him self can free ! ' 



' Then since ' (quoth she) ' the terme of 

each mans life 
For nought may lessened nor enlarged bee, 
Graunt this; that when ye shred with 

fatall knife 
His line, which is the eldest of the three, 
Which is of them the shortest, as I see, 
Eftsoones his life may passe into the 

next: 
And, when the next shall likewise ended 

bee, 
That both their lives may likewise be 

annext 
Unto the third, that his may so be trebly 

wext. 



They graunted it; and then that care- 
full Fay 
Departed thence with full contented mynd ; 
And, comming home, in warlike fresh 

aray 
Them found all three according to their 

kynd : 
But unto them what destinie was assynd. 
Or how their lives were eekt, she did not 

tell; 
But evermore, when she fit time could 

fynd, 
She warned them to tend their safeties 

well. 
And love each other deare, what ever 

them befell. 



So did they surely during all their 

dayes. 
And never discord did amongst them fall, 
Which much augmented all their other 

praise ; 



304 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV, 



And now, t'increase affection naturall, 
In love of Canacee they joyned all : 
Upon which ground this same great hat- 
tell grew, 



Great matter growing of beginning small, 
The which, tor length, I will not here 

purse w, 
But rather will reserve it for a Canto new. 



CANTO III. 

The battell twlxt three brethren with 

Cambell for Canacee : 
Cambina with true friendships bond 

Doth their long strife agree. 



O! WHY doe wretched men so much 

desire 
To draw their dayes unto the utmost date, 
And doe not rather wish them soone expire, 
Knowing the miserie of their estate, 
And thousand perills which them still 

awate. 
Tossing them like a boate amid the mayne, 
That every houre they kuocke at deathes 

gate? 
And he that happie seemes, and least in 

payne. 
Yet is as nigh his end as he that most doth 

playne. 

II. 

Therefore this Fay I hold but fond and 

vaine. 
The which, in seeking for her children 

three 
Long life, thereby did more prolong their 

paine : 
Yet whilest they lived none did ever see 
More happie creatures then they seem'd 

to bee ; 
Nor more ennobled for their courtesie, 
That made them dearely lov'd of each 

degree ; 
Ne more renowmed for their chevalrie. 
That made them dreaded much of all men 

farre and nie. 

III. 

These three that bardie chalenge tooke 

in hand, 
For Canacee with Cambell for to fight. 
The day was set, that all might undei'- 

stand. 
And pledges pawnd the same to keepe 

aright : 
That day, the dreddest day that living 

wight 
Did ever see upon this world to shine. 
So soone as heavens window shewed light. 
These warlike Champions, all in armour 

shine. 
Assembled were in field the chalenge to 

define. 



The field with listes was all about en- 

clos'd. 
To barre the prease of people farre away; 
And at th' one side sixe judges were dis- 

pos'd, 
To view and deeme the deedes of amies 

that day : 
And on the other side, in fresh aray, 
Fayre Canacee upon a stately stage 
Was set, to see the fortune of that fray. 
And to be scene, as his most worthie 

wage 
That could her purchase with his \yves 

adventur'd gage. 



Then entred Cambell first into the list, 
With stately steps and fearlesse counte- 
nance, 
As if the conquest his he surely wist. 
Soone after did the brethren three advance 
In brave aray and goodly amenance, 
With scutchins gilt and banners broad 

displayd ; 
And, marching thrise in warlike ordinance, 
Thrise lowted lowly to the noble Mayd, 
The whiles shril trompets and loud clarions 
sweetly playd. 

VI. 

Which doen, the doughty chalenger 

came forth, 
All arm'd to point, his chalenge to abet: 
Gainst whom Sir Priamond, with equall 

worth 
And equall armes, himselfe did forward 

set. 
A trompet blew ; they both together met 
With dreadfull foi'ce and furious intent, 
Carelesse of perill in their fiers aifret. 
As if that life to losse they had forelent, 
And cared not to spare that should be 

shortly spent. 



Right practicke was Sir Priamond 
fight, 



CANTO ill.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



305 



And throughly skild in use of shield and 

speare ; 
Ne lesse approved was Cambelloes might, 
Ne lesse his skill in weapons did appeare ; 
That hard it was to weene which harder 

were. 
Full many mightie strokes on either side 
Were sent, that seemed death in them to 

beare ; 
But they were both so watchfuU and well 

eyde, 
That they avoyded were, and vainely by 

did slyde. 

VIII. 

Yet one, of many, was so strongly bent 
By Priamond, that with unluckie giaunce 
Through Cambels shoulder it unwarely 

went, 
That forced him his shield to disadvaunce. 
Much was he grieved with that gracelesse 

chaunce ; 
Yet from the wound no drop of bloud 

there fell. 
But wondrous paine, that did the more 

enhaunoe 
His haughtie courage to avengement fell : 
Smart daunts not mighty harts, but makes 

them more to swell. 



With that, his poynant speare he fierce 

aveiitred . 
With doubled force close underneath his 

shield, 
That through the mayles into his thigh it 

entred. 
And, there arresting, readie way did yield 
For bloud to gush forth on thegrassie field ; 
That he for pahie himselfe n'ote right 

upreare, 
Butitoo and fro in great amazement reel'd ; 
Like an old Oke, whose pith and sap is 

scare, 
At puffe of every storme doth stagger 

here and theare. 



Whom so dismayd when Cambell had 

espide, 
Againe he drove at him with double might, 
That nought mote stay the Steele, till in 

his side 
The mortall point most cruelly empight ; 
Where fast infixed, whilest he sought by 

slight 
It forth to wrest, the staffe asunder brake. 
And left the head behinde : with which 

despight 
He all enrag'd his shivering speare did 

shake, 



And charging him afresh thus felly him 
bespake. 

XI. 

' Lo ! faitour, there thy meede unto thee 

take, 
The meede of thy mischalenge and abet. 
Not for thine owue, but for thy sisters 

sake, 
Have I thus long thy life unto thee let : 
But to forbeare doth not forgive the det.' 
The wicked weapon heard his wrathful! 

vow. 
And, passing forth with furious affret, 
Pierst through his bever quite into his 

brow. 
That with the force it backward forced 

him to bow. 



Therewith asunder in the midst it brast. 
And in his hand nought but the troncheon 

left; 
The other halfe, behind yet sticking fast, 
Out of his headpeece Cambell fiercely reft. 
And Avith such furie backe at him it heft. 
That making way unto his dearest life. 
His weasand-pipe it through his gorget 

cleft. 
Thence streames of purple bloud issuing 

rife 
Let forth his wearie ghost, and made an 

end of strife. 



His wearie ghost assoyld from fleshly 

baud 
Did not, as others wont, directly fly 
Unto her rest in Plutoes griesly land ; 
Ne into ayre did vanish presently, 
Ne chaunged was into a starre in sky ; 
But through traduction was eftsoones 

derived, 
Like as his mother prayd the Destinie, 
Into his other brethren that survived. 
In whom he liv'd anew, of former life 

deprived. 

XIV. 

Whom when on ground his brother next 
beheld, 
Though sad aud sorie for so heavy sight, 
Yet leave unto his sorrow did not yeeld. 
But rather stir'd to vengeance and de- 
spight. 
Through secret feeling of his generous 

sp right, 
Rusht fiei-cely forth the battell to renew, 
As in reversion of his brothers right; 
And chalenging the Mrgiu as his dew, 
His foe was sooue addrest : the trompets 
freshly blew. 



3o6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



With that Ihey both together fiercely 

met, 
As if that each ment other to devoure ; 
And with their axes both so sorely bet, 
That neither plate nor inayle, where as 

their powre 
They felt, could once sustains the hideous 

stowre. 
But rived were like rotten wood asunder; 
Whilest through their rifts the ruddie 

bloud did showre, 
And fire did flash, like lightning after 

thunder. 
That fild the lookers on attonce with ruth 

and wonder. 

XVI. 

As when two Tygers prickt with hungers 

rage 
Have by good fortune found some beasts 

fresh spoyle. 
On which they weene their famine to 

asswage, 
And gaine a feastfull guerdon of their 

toyle. 
Both failing out doe stirre up strifefull 

broyle, 
And cruell battell twixt themselves doe 

make, 
Whiles neither lets the other touch the 

soyle, 
But either sdeignes with other to partake : 
So cruelly these Knights strove for that 

Ladies sake. 

XVII. 

Full many strokes, that mortally were 

ment, 
The whiles were enterchaunged twixt 

them two ; 
Yet they were all with so good wariment 
Or warded, or avoyded and let goe, 
That still the life stood fearelesse of her 

foe; 
Till Diamond, disdeigning long delay 
Of doubtful! fortune wavering to and 

fro, 
Resolv'd to end it one or other way. 
And heav'd his murdrous axe at him with 

mighty sway. 

XVIII. 

The dread full stroke, in case it had 

arrived 
Where it was ment, (so deadly it was 

ment) 
The soule had sure out of his bodie 

rived, 
And stinted all the strife incontinent : 



But Cambels fate that fortune did pre- 
vent ; 

For, seeing it at hand, he swarv'd asyde, 

And so gave way unto his fell intent ; 

Who, missing of the marke which he had 
eyde, 

Was with the force nigh feld, whilst his 
right foot did slyde. 



As when a Vulture greedie of his pray, 
Through hunger long that hart to him 

doth lend, 
Strikes at an Heron with all his bodies 

sway. 
That from his force seemes nought may 

it defend ; 
The warie fowle, that spies him toward 

bend 
His dreadfuU souse, avoydes it, shunning 

light. 
And maketh him his wing in vaine to 

spend ; 
That with the weight of his owne weeld- 

lesse might 
He falleth nigh to ground, and scarse re- 

covereth flight. 

XX. 

Which faire adventure when Cambello 

spide, 
Full lightly, ere himselfe he could re- 
cower 
From daungers dread to ward his naked 

side, 
He can let drive at him with all his 

power, 
And with his axe him smote in evill 

hower. 
That from his shoulders quite his head he 

reft: ^^ 

The headlesse tronke, as heedlesse of that 

stower, 
Stood still awhile, and his fast footing 

kept, 
Till, feeling life to fayle, it fell, and 

deadly slept. 

xxi. 

They which that piteous spectacle beheld 
Were much amaz'd the headlesse tronke 

to see 
Stand up so long, and weapon vaine to 

weld, 
Unweeting of the Fates divine decree 
For lifes succession in those brethren three. 
For notwithstanding that one soule was 

reft. 
Yet had the bodie not dismembred bee, 
It would have lived, and revived eft; 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



307 



But, finding no fit seat, the lifelesse corse 
it left. 



It left; but that same soule which 

therein dwelt 
Streight entriug into Triaraond him fild 
With double life and griefe; which when 

he felt, 
As one whose inner parts had bene ythrild 
With point of Steele that close his hart- 

bloud spild, 
He lightly lept out of his place of rest, 
And rushing forth into the emptie field, 
Against Cambello fiercely him addrest ; 
Who, him affronting soone, to fight was 

readie prest. 



Well mote ye wonder how that noble 

Knight, 
After he had so often wounded beene. 
Could stand on foot now to renew the 

fight: 
But had ye then him forth advauncing 

scene. 
Some newborne wight ye would him surely 

weeue ; 
So fresh he seemed and so fierce in sight : 
Like as a Snake, whom wearie winters 

teene 
Hath worne to nought, now feeling som- 

mers might. 
Casts off his ragged skin and freshly doth 

him dight. 

XXIV. 

All was through vertue of the ring he 

wore ; 
The which not onely did not from him let 
One drop of blond to fall, but did restore 
His weakned powers, and dulled spirits 

whet, 
Through working of the stone therein 

yset. 
Else how could one of equall might with 

most. 
Against so many no lesse mightie met. 
Once thinke to match three such on equall 

cost, 
Three such as able were to match a 

puissant host ? 



Yet nought thereof was Triamond 

adredde, 
Ne desperate of glorious victorie ; 
But sharpely him assay Id, and sore be- 

stedde 
With heapes of strokes, which he at him 

let flie 



As thicke as hayle forth poured from the 

skie: 
He stroke, he soust, he foynd, he hewd, 

he lasht. 
And did his yron brond so fast applie, 
That from the same the fierie sparkles 

flasht, 
As fast as water-sprinkles gainst a rocke 

are dasht. 

XXVI. 

Much was Cambello daunted with his 

blowes : 
So thicke they fell, and forcibly were sent. 
That he was forst from daunger of the 

throwes 
Backe to retire, and somewhat to relent. 
Till th' heat of his fierce furie he had 

spent ; 
Which when for want of breath gan to 

abate. 
He then afresh with new encouragement 
Did him assayle, and mightily am ate. 
As fast as forward erst now backward to 

retrate. 

XXVII. 

Like as the tide, that comes fro th' 

Ocean mayne, 
Flowes up the Shenan with coutrarie 

forse. 
And over-ruling him in his owne rayne, 
Drives backe the current of his kindly 

course, 
And makes it seeme to have some other 

sourse ; 
But when the floud is spent, then backe 

againe. 
His borrowed waters forst to redisbourse. 
He sends the sea his owne with double 

gaine. 
And tribute eke withall, as to his Sov- 

eraine. 

XXVIII. 

Thus did the battell varie to and fro, 
With diverse fortune doubtfull to be 

deemed : 
Now this the better had, now had his fo ; 
Then he halfe vanquisht, then the other 

seemed, 
Yet victors both them selves alwayes 

esteemed : 
And all the while the disentrayled blood 
Adowne their sides like litle rivers 

stremed, 
That with the wasting of his vitall flood. 
Sir Triaraond at last full faint and feeble 

stood. 

XXIX. 

But Cambell still more strong and 
greater grew. 



3o8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Ne felt his blood to wast, ne powres 

emperisht, 
Through that rings vertue, that with 

vigour new 
Still when as he enfeebled was, him 

cherisht, 
And all his wounds, and all his bruses 

guarisht ; 
Like as a withered tree, through husbands 

toyle, 
Is often seene full freshly to have tlorisht, 
And fruitfull apples to have borne awhile, 
As fresh as when it first was planted in 

the soyle. 

XXX, 

Through which advantage, in hisstrength 

he rose, 
And smote the other with so wondrous 

might, 
That through the seame, which did his 

hauberk close. 
Into his throate and life it pierc d quight. 
Thnt ■ ...\:ir' he fell as dead in all mens 

sight ; 
^ r dead he was not, yet he sure did 

die, 
\» all men do, that lose the living spright. 
So did one soule out of his bodie flie 
Unto iier native home from mortall 

niiserie. 

XXXI. 

But nathelesse, whilst all the lookers- 
on 
Him dead behight, as he to all appeard. 
All unawares he started up anon, 
As one that had out of a dreame bene 

reard. 
And fresh assayld his foe: who halfe 

affeard 
Of th' uncouth sight, as he some ghost 

had seene, 
Stood still amaz'd, holding his idle sweard ; 
Till, having often by him stricken beene. 
He forced was to strike, and save himselfe 
from teene. 



Yet from thenceforth more warily he 

fought. 
As one in feare the Stygian gods t' offend, 
Ne followd on so fast, but rather sought 
Him selfe to save, and daunger to defend. 
Then life and labour both in vaine to 

spend. .,- .. 

Which Triamond percc ig weened sure 
He gan to faint toward the battels end. 
And that he should not long on foote 

endure, 
A signe which did to him the victorie 

assure. 



XXXIII. 

Whereof full blith eftsoones his mightie 

hand 
He heav'd on high, in mind with that 

same blow 
To make an end of all that did withstand : 
Which Cambell seeing come was nothing 

slow 
Him selfe to save from that so deadly 

throw ; 
And at that instant reaching forth his 

sweard 
Close underneath his shield, that scarce 

did show. 
Stroke him, as he his hand to strike up- 

reard. 
In th' arm-pit full, that through both 

sides the wound appeard. 



Yet stiil that direfull stroke kept on 
his "v^ay, 
And. falling Leavie on Cambelloes crest, 
Strooke him so hugely that in swowne he 

lay, 
And in his head an hideous wound im- 
prest : 
And sure, had it not happily found rest 
Upon the brim of his brode-plated shield, 
It would have cleft his braine downe to 

his brest. 
So both at once fell dead upon the field, 
And each to other seemd the victorie to 
yield. 

XXXV. 

Which when as all the lookers-on be- 
held, 

They weened sure the warre was at an 
end; 

And Judges rose, and Marshals of the 
field 

Broke up the listes, their armes away to 
rend ; 

And Canacee gan wayle her dearest frend. 

All suddenly they both upstarted light. 

The one out of the swownd, which him 
did blend, 

The other breathing now another spright, 

And fiercely each assayling gan afresh to 
fight. 

XXXVI. 

Long while they then continued in that 
wize. 
As if but then the battell had begonne: 
Strokes, wounds, wards, weapons, all they 

did despise, 
Ne eitlier car'd to ward, or perill shonne. 
Desirous both to have the battell donue ; 
Ne either cared life to save or spill. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



509 



Ne which of them did wiune, ne which 

were wouue. 
So wearie both of fighting had their fill, 
That life it selfe seemd loathsome, and 

long safetie ill. 

XXXVII. 

Whilst thus the case in douhtfull bal- 

lance hong, 
Unsure to whether side it would incline. 
And all mens eyes and hearts, which 

thero among 
Stood gazing, filled were with rufull tine 
And secret feare, to see their fatall fine, 
All suddenly they heard a troublous 

noyes, 
That seemd some perilous tumult to 

desine, 
Confusd with womens cries and shouts 

of boyes, 
Such as tlie troubled Theatres oftimes 

aunoyes. 

XXXVIII. 

Thereat the Champions both stood still 
a space. 
To weeten what that sudden clamour 

ment: 
Lo ! where they spyde with speedie whirl- 
ing pace. 
One in a charet of strauuge furniment 
Towards them driving, like a storme out 

sent. 
The charet decked was in wondrous wize 
With gold and many a gorgeous orna- 
ment, 
After the Persian Monarks antique guize. 
Such as the maker selfe could best by art 
devize. 

XXXIX. 

And drawne it was (that wonder is to 
tell) 

Of two grim lyons, taken from the wood. 

In which their powre all others did ex- 
cell ; 

Now made forget their former cruell 
mood, 

T' obey their riders best, as seemed good. 

And therein sate a Ladie, passing faire 

And bright, that seemed borne of Angels 
brood, 

And, with her beautie, bountie did com- 
pare, 

Whether of them in her should have the 
greater share. 

XL. 

Thereto she learned was in Magicke 
leare, 
And all the artes, that subtill wits dis- 
cover. 



Having therein bene trained many ayeare, 
And well instructed by the Fay her 

mother. 
That in the same she farre exceld all 

other : 
Who understanding by her mightie art 
Of th' evill plight, in which her dearest 

brother 
Now stood, came forth in hast to take his 

part. 
And pacifie the strife, which causd so 

deadly smart. 



And as she passed through th' unruly 

preace 
Of people, thronging thicke her to behold. 
Her angrie teame breaking their bonds of 

peace 
Great heapes of them, like sheepe in nar- 
row fold, 
For hast did over-runne, in dust enrould : 
That, thorough rude confusion of the 

rout. 
Some fearing shriekt, some being harmed 

hould. 
Some laught for sport, some did for 

wonder shout. 
And some, that would seeme wise, their 

wonder turnd to dout. 

XLII. 

In her right hand a rod of peace shee 
bore. 
About the which two Serpents weren 

wound, 
Entrayled mutually in lovely lore, 
And by the tailes together firmely bound, 
And both were with one olive garland 

crownd, 
Like to the rod which Maias sonne doth 

wield. 
Wherewith the hellish fiends he doth con- 
found : 
And in her other hand a cup she hild, 
The which was with Nepe' he to the brim 
upfild. 

XLIII. 

Nepenthe is a drinck of soverayne 

grace. 
Devized by the Gods, for to asswage 
Harts grief, and bitter gall away to 

chace. 
Which stirs up ?no-uish and contentious 

rage : 
Instead thereof sweet peace and quiet-age 
It doth establish in the troubled mynd. 
Few men, but such as sober are and sage. 
Are by the Gods to drinck thereof 

assynd ; 



3TO 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



But such as drinck, eternall happinesse 
do fynd. 

XLIV. 

Such famous meu, such worthies of the 

earth, 
As Jove will have advaunced to the skie, 
And there made gods, though borne of 

mortall berth, 
For their high merits and great dignitie, 
Are wont, before they may to heaven flie, 
To drincke hereof, whereby all cares 

forepast 
Are washt away quite from their memo- 

rie. 
So did tliose olde Heroes hereof taste. 
Before that they in blisse amongst the 

Gods were plaste. 

XLV. 

Much more of price and of more gra- 

tious powre, 
Is this, then that same water of Ardenne, 
The which Rinaldo druuck in happie 

howre, 
Described by that famous Tuscane penne : 
For that had might to change the hearts 

of men 
Fro love to hate, a change of evill choise : 
But this doth hatred make in love to 

brenne, 
And heavy heart with comfort doth 

rejoyce. 
Who would not to this vertue rather 

yeeld his voice? 

XLVI. 

At last arriving by the listes side, 
Shee with her rod did softly smite the 

raile. 
Which straight flew ope, and gave her 

way to ride. 
Eftsoones out of her Coch she gan availe, 
And pacing fairely forth did bid all haile. 
First to her brother, whom she loved 

deare. 
That so to see him made her heart to 

quaile; 
And next to Cambell, whose sad ruefull 

cheare 
Made her to change her hew, and hidden 

love t' appeare. 



They lightly her requit, (for small 

delight 
They had as then her long to entertaine) 
And eft them turned both againe to 

fight: 
Which when she saw, downe on the bloudy 

plaine 



Her selfe she threw, and teares gan shed 

amaine ; 
Amongst her teares immixing prayers 

meeke, 
And with her prayers reasons, to restraine 
From blouddy strife, and blessed peace to 

seeke, 
By all that unto them was deare, did 

them beseeke. 

XLVIII. 

But when as all might nought with them 

prevaile, 
Shee smote them lightly with her powre- 

full wand. 
Then suddenly, as if their hearts did faile, 
Their wrath full blades downe fell out of 

their hand, 
And they, like men astonisht, still did 

stand. 
Thus whilest their minds were doubtfully 

distraught. 
And mighty spirites bound with mightier 

band. 
Her golden cup to them for drinke she 

raught, 
Whereof, full glad for thirst, ech drunk 

an harty draught ; 



Of which so soone as they once tasted 

had. 
Wonder it is that sudden change to see : 
Instead of strokes, each other kissed glad, 
And lovely haulst, from feare of treason 

free, 
And plighted hands for ever friends to be. 
When all men saw this sudden change of 

things, 
So mortall foes so friendly to agree, 
For passing joy, which so great marvaile 

brings, 
They all gan shout aloud, that all the 

heaven rings. 



All which when gentle Canacee beheld. 
In hast she from her lofty chaire de- 
scended, 
To weet what sudden tidings was befeld : 
Where when she saw that cruell war so 

ended, 
And deadly foes so faithfully affrended. 
In lovely wise she gan that Lady greet, 
Which had so great dismay so well 

amended : 
And, entertaining her with curt'sies 

meet, 
Profest to her true friendship and affection > 
sweet. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



3^1 



Thus when they all accorded goodly 

were, 
The trumpets sounded, and they all arose, 
Thence to depart with glee and gladsome 

chere. 
Those warlike champions both together 

chose 
Homeward to march, themselves there to 

repose : 
And wise Cambina, taking by her side 
Faire Cauacee, as fresh as morning rose, 
Unto her Coch remounting, home did 

ride, 



Admir'd of all the people and much glori- 
fide. 

LII. 

Where making joyous feast theire daies 

they spent 
In perfect love, devoide of hatefull strife, 
Allide with bands of mutuall couplement ; 
For Triamond had Canacee to wife, 
With whom he ledd a long and happie life ; 
And Cambel tooke Cambina to his fere, 
The which as life were to each other liefe. 
So all alike did love, and loved were. 
That since their dayes such lovers were 

not found elswhere. 



CANTO IV. 

Satyrane makes a Turneyment 

For love of Florimeil : 
Britomart winnes the prize from all, 

And Artegall doth quell. 



It often fals, (as here it.earst befell) 

That mortall foes doe turne to faithfull 
frends. 

And friends profest are chaungd to foe- 
men fell : 

The cause of both, of both their minds de- 
pends. 

And th' end of both likewise of both their 
ends: 

For enmitie, that of no ill proceeds 

But of occasion, with th' occasion ends; 

And friendship, which a faint affection 
breeds 

Without regard of good, dyes • like ill 
grounded seeds. 



That well (me seemes) appeares, by that 
of late 
Twixt Cambell and Sir Triamond be- 
fell. 
As als by this, that now a new debate 
Stird up twixt Bla'ndamour and Paridell, 
The which by course befals me here to 

tell: 
Who having those two other Knights 

espide 
Marching afore, as ye remember well, 
Sent forth their Squire to have them both 

descride, 
And eke those masked Ladies riding them 
beside. 

III. 

Who backe returning told, as he had 
seene. 
That they were doughtie knights of 
dreaded name, 



And those two Ladies their two loves un- 
seen e ; 

And therefore wisht them without blot or 
blame 

To let them passe at will, for dread of 
shame. 

But Blandamour full of vainglorious 
spright. 

And rather stird by his discordfull Dame, 

Upon them gladly would have prov'd his 
might. 

But that he yet was sore of his late luck- 
lesse fight. 

IV. 

Yet nigh approching he them fowle be- 
spake, 

Disgracing them, him selfe thereby to 
grace. 

As was his wont : so weening way to make 

To Ladies love, where so he came in 
place, 

And with lewd termes their lovers to de- 
face. 

Whose sharpe provokement them incenst 
so sore. 

That both were bent t' avenge his usage 
base. 

And gan their shields addresse them 
selves afore : 

For evill deedes may better then bad 
words be bore. 



But faire Cambina with perswasions 

myld 
Did mitigate the fiercenesse of their 

mode, 
That for the present they were reconcyld. 



312 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Aud gau to treate of deeds of armes 
abrode, 

And strange adventures, all the way they 
rode : 

Amongst the which they told, as then be- 
fell, 

Of that great turney which was blazed 
brode, 

For that rich girdle of faire Florimell, 

The prize of her which did in beautie most 
excell. 

VI. 

To wiiich folke-mote they all with one 
consent, 

Sith each of them his Ladie had him by, 

Whose beautie each of them thought ex- 
cellent. 

Agreed to travell, and their fortunes try. 

So as they passed forth they did espy 

One in bright armes, with ready speare in 
rest, 

That toward them his course seem'd to 
apply : 

Gainst whom Sir Paridell himself e ad- 
drest, 

Him weening, ere he nigh approcht, to 
have represt. 



Which th' other seeing gan his course 

relent. 
And vaunted speare eftsoones to disad- 

vaunce. 
As if he naught but peace and pleasure 

ment. 
Now f alne into their fellowship by chance : 
Whereat they shewed curteous counte- 

naunceli 
So as he rode with them accompanide, 
His roving eie did on the Lady glaunce 
Which Blandamour had riding by his 

side: 
Whom sure he weend, that he some-wher 

tofore had eide. 

VIII. 

It was to weete that snowy Florimell, 
Which Ferrau late from Braggadochio 

wonne : 
Whom he now seeing, her remembred 

well, 
How having reft her from the witches 

Sonne, 
lie soone her lost : wdierefore he now be- 

guiine 
To challenge her anew, as his owaie prize, 
^Vhom formerly he had in battell wonne, 
And proffer made by force her to reprize : 
Which scornefull offer Blandamour gan 

soone despize ; 



And said, ' Sir Knight, sith ye this Lady 

clame. 
Whom he that hath w^ere loth to lose so 

light, 
(For so to lose a Lady were great shame) 
Yee shall her winne, as I have done, in 

fight: 
And lo ! shee shall be placed here in sight, 
Together with this Hag beside her set, 
That who so winnes her may her have by 

right : 
But he shall have the Hag that is ybet. 
And with her alwaies ride, till he another 

get.' 

X. 

That offer pleased all the company : 
So Florimell with Ate forth was brought, 
At which they all gan laugh full merrily: 
But Braggadochio said, he never thought 
For such an Hag, that seemed worse then 

nought. 
His person to emperill so in fight ; 
But if to match that Lady they had sought 
Another like,' that were like faire and 

bright. 
His life he then would spend to justifie 

his right. 

XI. 

At which his vaine excuse they all gan 

smile. 
As scorning his unmanly cowardize: 
And Florimell him fowly gan revile, 
That for her sake refus'd to enterprize 
The battell, off red in so knightly wize: 
And Ate eke provokt him privily 
With love of her, and shame ol such me- 

sprize. 
But nought he car'd for friend or enemy. 
For in base mind nor friendship dwels nor 

enmity. 

XII. 

But Cambell thus did shut up all in jest : 
'Brave Knights and Ladies, certes, ye 

doe wrong 
To stirre up strife, wlieu most us needeth 

rest. 
That we may us reserve both fresh and 

strong 
Against the Turneiment which is not long, 
When who so list to fight may fight his 

fill: 
Till then your challenges ye may prolong ; 
And then it shall be tried', if ye will, 
Whether shall have the Hag, or hold the 

Lady still.' 

XIII. 

They all agreed: so, turning all to 

irame 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



3^3 



And pleasaunt bord, they past forth on 

their way. 
And all that while, where so they rode or 

came, 
That masked IVIock-knioht was their sport 

and play. 
Till that at "length, upon th' appointed 

day 
Unto the place of turneymeut they came ; 
Where they before them found in fresh 

aray 
Manie a brave knight and mauie a daintie 

dame. 
Assembled for to get the honour of that 

game. 

XIV. 

There this faire crewe arriving did 

divide 
Them selves asunder: Blandamour with 

those 
Of his on th' one, the rest on th' other 

side. 
But boastful Braggadochio rather chose, 
For glorie vaine, their fellowship to lose, 
That men on him the more might gaze 

alone. 
The rest themselves in troupes did else 

dispose, 
Like as it seemed best to every one ; 
The knights in couples marcht with ladies 

linckt attone. 

XV. 

Then first of all forth came Sir Saty rane. 
Bearing that precious relicke in an arke 
Of gold, that bad eyes might it not pro- 

phane : 
Which drawing softly forth out of the 

darke. 
He open shewd, that all men it mote 

marke: 
A gorgeous girdle, curiously embost 
'\\'ith pearle and precious stone, worth 

many a marke ; 
Yet did the workmanship farre passe the 

cost: 
It was the same which lately Florimel had 

lost. 

XVI. 

The same aloft he hung in open vew, 
To be the prize of beautie and of might; 
The which eftsoones discovered, to it 

drew 
The eyes of all, allur'd with close delight, 
And hearts quite robbed with so glorious 

sight, 
That all men threw out vowes and wishes 

vaine. 
Thrise happie Ladie, and thrise happie 

knight, 



Them seemd that could so goodly riches 

gaine, 
So worthie of the perill, worthy of the 

paine. 

XVII. 

Then tooke the bold Sir Satyrane in 

hand 
An huge great speare, such as he wont to 

wield. 
And, vauncing forth from all the other 

band 
Of knights, addrest his maiden-headed 

shield. 
Shewing him selfe all ready for the field. 
Gainst whom there singled from the other 

side 
A Painim knight that well in amies was 

skild, 
And had in many a battell oft bene tride, 
Hight Bruncheval the bold, who liersly 

forth did ride. 

XVIII. 

So furiously they both together met. 
That neither could the others force sus- 

taine ; 
As two tierce Buls, that strive the rule to 

get 
Of all the heard, meete with so hideous 

maine, 
That both rebutted tumble on the plaine : 
So these two champions to the ground 

were feld, 
Where in a maze they both did long re- 

maine. 
And in their hands their idle troncheons 

held. 
Which neither able were to wag, or once 

to weld. 

xrx. 
Which when the noble Ferramont 

espide, 
He pricked forth in ayd of Satyran ; 
And him against Sir Blandamour did ride 
With all the strength and stifuesse that 

he can. 
But the more strong and stiffely that he 

ran , 
So much more sorely to the ground he 

fell. 
That on an heape were tumbled horse and 

man : 
Unto whose rescue forth rode Paridell ; 
But him likewise with that same speare 

he eke did quell. 



Which Braggadocchio seeing had no 
will 



314 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



To hasten greatly to liis parties ayd, 
Albee his turne were next ; but stood there 

still, 
As one that seemed doubtfull or dismayd. 
But Triarnond, halfe wroth to see him 

staid, 
Sternly stept forth and raught away his 

speare, 
With which so sore he Ferramout assaid, 
That horse and man to ground he quite 

did beare. 
That neither could in hast themselves 

againe upreare. 

XXI. 

Which to avenge Sir Devon him did 

dight, 
But with no better fortune then the rest : 
For him likewise he quickly dowue did 

smight, 
And after him Sir Douglas him addrest, 
And after him Sir Palimord forth prest: 
But none of them against his strokes 

could stand, 
But, all the more, the more his praise iu- 

crest : 
For either they were left uppon the land, 
Or went away sore wounded of his hap- 

lesse hand. 

XXII. 

And now by this Sir Satyrane abraid 
Out of the swowne, in which too long he 

lay; 
And looking round about, like one dis- 

maid, 
When as he saw the mercilesse affray 
Which doughty Triamond had wrought 

that day 
Unto the noble Knights of Maidenhead, 
His mighty heart did almost rend in 

tway, 
For very gall, that rather wholly dead 
Himselfe he wisht have beene, then in so 

bad a stead. 

XXIII. 

Eftsoones he gan to gather up around 
His weapons which lay scattered all 

abrode. 
And, as it fell, his steed he ready found ; 
On whom remounting fiercely forth he 

rode, 
Like sparke of fire that from the andvile 

glode. 
There where he saw the valiant Triamond 
Chasing, and laying on them heavy lode. 
That none his force were able to with- 

stond. 
So dreadfull were his strokes, so deadly 

was his bond. 



With that, at him his beam-like speare 
he aimed. 

And thereto all his power and might 
applide : 

The wicked Steele, for mischief e first or- 
dained. 

And having now misfortune got for guide. 

Staid not till it arrived in his side. 

And therein made a very griesly wound, 

That streames of blood his armour all 
bedide. 

Much was he daunted with that direfull 
stouud. 

That scarse he him upheld from falling in 
a swound. 



Yet, as he might, himselfe he soft with- 
drew 
Out of the field, that none perceiv'd it 

plaine ; 
Then gan the part of Chalengers anew 
To range the field, and victorlike to raine, 
That none against them battell durst 

maintaine : 
By that the gloomy evening on them fell, 
That forced them from fighting to re- 

fraine, 
And trumpets sound to cease did them 

compell : 
So Satyrane that day was judg'd to beare 
the bell. 

XXVI. 

The morrow next the Turney gan anew : 
And with the first the hardy Satyrane 
Appear'd in place, with all his noble 

crew: 
On th' other side full many a warlike 

swain e 
Assembled were, that glorious prize to 

gaine. 
But mongst them all was not Sir Tria- 
mond, 
Unable he new battell to darraine, 
Through grievaunce of his late received 

wound. 
That doubly did him grieve when so him- 
selfe he found. 

XXVII. 

Which Cambell seeing, though he could 

not salve, 
Ne done undoe, yet, for to salve his name 
And purchase honor in his friends be- 

halve. 
This goodly counterfesaunce he did 

frame : 
The shield and armes, well knowne to be 

the same 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



315 



Which Triamond had worne, unwares to 

wight 
And to his friend unwist, for dovibt of 

blame 
If he misdid, he on himselfe did dight, 
That none could him discerne; and so 

went forth to fight. 

XXVIII. 

There Satyrane Lord of the field he 

found, 
Triumphing in great joy and jolity, 
Gainst whom none able was to stand on 

ground ; 
That much he gan his glorie to envy, 
And cast t' avenge his friends indignity. 
A mightie speare eftsooues at him he bent ; 
"Who, seeing him come on so furiously, 
Met him mid-way with equall hardiraent, 
That forcibly to ground they both together 

went. 

XXIX. 

They up againe them selves can lightly 
reare. 

And to their tryed swords them selves be- 
take ; 

With which they wrought such wondrous 
marvels there. 

That all the rest it did amazed make, 

Ne any dar'd their perill to partake ; 

Now cuffing close, now chacing to and 
fro. 

Now hurtling round advantage for to 
take : 

As two wild Boares together grapling go, 

Chaufing and foming choler each against 
his fo. 

XXX. 

So as they courst, and turneyd here and 

theare. 
It chaunst Sir Satyrane his steed at last, 
Whether through foundring or through 

sodein feare, 
To stumble, that his rider nigh he cast; 
AVhich vauntage Cambell did pursue so 

fast. 
That, ere him selfe he had recovered well. 
So sore he sowst him on the compast creast. 
That forced him to leave his loftie sell, 
And rudely tumbling downe under his 

horse-feete fell. 

XXXI. 

Lightly Cambello leapt downe from his 

steed 
For to have rent his shield and armes 

away. 
That whylome wont to be the victors 

meed ; 



When all unwares he felt an hideous 

sway 
Of many swords that lode on him did lay. 
An hundred knights had him enclosed 

round. 
To rescue Satyrane out of his pray. 
All which at once huge strokes on him did 

pound, 
In hope to take him prisoner, where he 

stood on ground. 



He with their multitude was nought 

dismayd, 
But with stout courage turnd upon them 

all, 
And with his brondiron round about him 

layd ; 
Of which he dealt large almes, as did be- 
fall : 
Like as a Lion, that by chaunce doth fall 
Into the hunters toile, doth rage and 

rore. 
In royall heart disdaining to be thrall. 
But all in vaine : for what might one do 

more ? 
They have him taken captive, though it 

grieve him sore. 

XXXIII. 

Whereof when newes to Triamond was 

brought 
There as he lay, his wound he soone 

forgot, 
And starting up streight for his armour 

sought : 
In vaine he sought, for there he found it 

not; 
Cambello it away before had got. 
Cambelloes armes therefore he on him 

threAV, 
And lightly issewd forth to take his lot. 
There he in troupe found all that warlike 

crew. 
Leading his friend away, full sorie to his 

vew. 

XXXIV. 

Into the thickest of that knightly preasse 
He thrust, and smote downe all that was 

betweene, 
Caried with fervent zeale: ne did he 

ceasse, 
Till that he came where he had Cambell 

seene 
Like captive thral two other Knights 

atweene: 
There he amongst them cruell havocke 

makes. 
That they, which lead him, sooue enforced 

beene 



3i6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



To let him loose to save their proper 

stakes, 
Who, being freed, from one a weapon 

fiercely takes. 

XXXV. 

With that he drives at them with dread- 
full might, 

Both in remembrance of his friends late 
bar me. 

And in revengemeiit of his owne despight ; 

So both together give a new allarme, 

As if but now the battel 1 wexed warrae. 

As when two greedy Wolves doe breake 
by force 

Into an heard, farre from the husband 
farme. 

They spoile and ravine without all re- 
morse ; 

So did these two through all the field 
their foes enforce. 

XXXVI. 

Fiercely they followd on their bolde 

emprize. 
Till trumpets sound did warne them all to 

rest; 
Then all with one consent did yeeld the 

prize 
To Triamond and Cambell as the best. 
But Triamond to Cambell it relest. 
And Cambell it to Triamond transferd, 
•Each labouring t' advance the others gest. 
And make his praise before his owne pre- 

ferd : 
So tliat the doome was to another day 

differd. 

XXXVII. 

The last day came, when all those 

knightes again e 
Assembled were their deedes of armes to 

shew. 
Full many deedes that day were shewed 

plaine: 
But Satyrane, bove all the other crew, 
His wondrous worth declared in all mens 

view. 
For from the first he to the last endured : 
And though some while Fortune from him 

withdrew. 
Yet evermore his honour he recured. 
And with unwearied powre his party still 

assured. 

XXXVIII. 

Ne was there Knight that ever thought 

of armes. 
But that his utmost prowesse there made 

knowen ; 
That, by their many wounds and carelesse 

harmes, 



By shivered speares, and swords all under 

strowen. 
By scattered shields, was easie to be 

showen. 
There might ye see loose steeds at randon 

ronne, 
Whose lucklesse riders late were over- 

throwen ; 
And squiers make hast to helpe their 

Lords fordonne. 
But still the Knights of Maidenhead the 

better wonne ; 

XXXIX. 

Till that there entered on the other side 
A straunger knight, from whence no man 

could reed. 
In quyent disguise, full hard to be de- 

scride : 
For all his armour was like salvage weed 
With woody mosse bedight, and all his 

steed 
With oaken leaves attrapt, that seemed fit 
For salvage wight; and thereto well 

agreed 
His word, which on his ragged shield was 

writ, 
Salvagesse sans finesse, shewing secret 

wit. 

XL. 

He, at his first incomming, charg'd his 

spere 
At him that first appeared in his sight: 
That was to weet the stout Sir Sangliere, 
Who well was knowen to be a valiant 

Knight, 
Approved oft in many a perlous fight. 
Him at the first encounter doAvne he smote, 
And overbore beyond his crouper quight; 
And after him another Knight, that bote 
Sir Brianor, so sore that none him life 

behote. 

XLI. 

Then, ere his hand he reard, he over- 
threw 
Seven Knights, one after other as they 

came : 
And, when hisspeare was brust, his sword 

he drew. 
The instrument of wrath, and with the 

same 
Far'd like a lyon in his bloodie game, 
Hewing and slashing shields and helmets 

bright. 
And beating downe what ever nigh him 

came, 
That every one gan shun his dreadfull 

sight, 
No lesse then death it selfe, in daungerous 

affright. 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



317 



XLII. 

Much wondred all men what or whence 
he came, 

That did amongst the troupes so tyran- 
nize, 

And each of other gan inquire his name. 

But when they could not learne it by no 
wize, 

Most answerable to his wyld disguize 

It seemed him to terme the Salvage 
Knight ; 

But certes his right name was otherwize, 

Though knowne to few, that Arthegall he 
hight, 

The doughtiest knight that liv'd that day, 
and most of might. 



Thus was Sir Satyrane with all his band 
By his sole manhood and atchievement 

stout 
Dismay 'd, that none of them in field durst 

stand, 
But beaten were and chased all about. 
So he continued all that day throughout, 
Till evening that the Suune gan down- 
ward bend. 
Then rushed forth out of the thickest rout 
A stranger knight, that did his glorie 

shend : 
So nought may be esteemed happie till 
the end. 

XLIV. 

He at his entrance charg'd his powrefull 

speare 
At Artegall, in middest of his pryde, 
And therewith smote him on his Umbriere 
So sore, that tombling baeke he downe 

did slyde 
Over his horses taile above a stryde ; 
Whence litle lust he had to rise againe : 
Which Cambell seeing much the same 

envyde, 
And ran at him with all his might and 

maine ; 
But shortly was likewise scene lying on 

the plaine. 

XLV. 

Whereat full inly wroth was Triamond, 
And cast t' avenge the shame doen to his 

f reend : 
But by his friend himselfe eke soone he 

fond 
In no leese neede of helpe then him he 

weend. 
All which when Blandamour from end to 

end 



Beheld, he woxe therewith displeased 

sore. 
And thought in mind it shortly to amend : 
His speare he feutred, and at him it 

bore, 
But with no better fortune then the rest 

afore. 

XLVI. 

Full many others at him likewise ran. 
But all of them likewise dismounted 

were ; 
Ne certes wonder, for no powre of man 
Could bide the force of that enchaunted 

speare. 
The which this famous Britomart did 

beare ; 
With which she wondrous deeds of arms 

atchieved. 
And overthrew what ever came her neare, 
That all those stranger knights full sore 

agrieved. 
And that late weaker band of chalengers 

relieved. 

XLVII. 

Like as in sommers day, when raging 

heat 
Doth burne the earth and boyled rivers 

drie, 
That all brute beasts, forst to refrainefro 

meat. 
Doe hunt for shade, where shrowded they 

may lie, 
And, missing it, faine from themselves to 

flie; 
All travellers tormented are with paine : 
A watry cloud doth overcast the skie, 
And poureth forth a sudden shoure of 

raine. 
That all the wretched world recomforteth 

againe. 

XLvni. 

So did the warlike Britomart restore 
The prize to knights of Maydenhead that 

day. 
Which else was like to have bene lost, and 

bore 
The prayse of prowesse from them all 

away. 
Then shrilling trompets loudly gan to 

bray. 
And bad them leave their labours and 

long toyle 
To joyous feast and other gentle play. 
Where beauties prize shold win that 

pretious spoyle : 
Where I with sound of trompe will also 

rest a whyle. 



3i8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



CANTO V. 

The Ladies for the g-irdle strive 

Of famous Florimell : 
Scudamoiir, coniming to Cares House, 

Doth sleepe from him expell. 



I. 



It hath hene through all ages ever seene, 
That with the praise of armes and chev- 

alrie 
The prize of beautie still hath joyned 

beene ; 
And that for reasons speciall privitie, 
For either doth on other much relie. 
For he, me seemes, most fit the faire to 

serve, 
That can her best defend from villenie ; 
And she most fit his service doth deserve, 
That fairest is, and from her faith will 

never swerve. 



So fitly now here commeth next in place. 
After the proofe of prowesse ended well, 
The controverse of beauties soveraine 

grace ; 
In which, to her that doth the raostexcell, 
Shall fall the girdle of faire Florimell: 
That many wish to win for glorie vaine, 
And not for vertuous use, which some doe 

tell 
That glorious belt did in it selfe containe, 
Which Ladies ought to love, and seeke for 

to obtaine. 

III. 
That girdle gave the vertue of chast 

love, 
And wivehood true, to all that did it 

beare ; 
But whosoever contrarie doth prove, 
Might not the same about her middle 

weare, 
But it would loose, or else asunder teare. 
Whilome it was (as Faeries wont report) 
Dame Venus girdle, by her steemed deare 
What time she usd to live in wively sort, 
But layd aside when so she usd her looser 

sport. 

IV. 

Her husband Vulcan whylome for her 

sake, 
When first he loved her with heart entire, 
This pretious ornament, they say, did 

make, 
And wrought in Lemno with unquenched 

fire: 



And afterwards did for her loves first 

hire 
Give it to her, for ever to remaine, 
Therewith to bind lascivious desire. 
And loose affections streightly to re- 

straine ; 
Which vertue it forever after did retaine. 



The same one day, when she her selfe 

disposd 
To visite her beloved Paramoure, 
The God of warre, she from her middle 

loosd. 
And left behind her in her secret bowre 
On Acidalian mount, where many an 

howre 
She with the pleasant Graces wont to 

play. 
There Florimell, in her first ages flowre, 
Was fostered by those Graces, (as they 

say) 
And brought with her from thence that 

goodly belt away. 

VI. 

That goodly belt was Cestus hight by 

name, 
And as her life by her esteemed deare. 
No wonder then, if that to winne the 

same 
So many Ladies sought, as shall appeare; 
For pearelesse she was thought that did 

it beare. 
And now by this their feast all being 

ended, 
The judges, which thereto selected were, 
Into the Martian field adowne descended 
To deeme this doutfuU case, for which 

they all contended. 

VII. 

But first was question made, which of 

those Knights 
That lately turneyd had the wager wonne : 
There was it judged, by those worthie 

wights. 
That Satyrane the first day best had 

donne : 
For he last ended, having first begonne. 
The second was to Triamond behight, 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERlE (^UEENE. 



319 



For that he sav'd the victour from for- 

donne : 
For Cambell victour was in all mens 

sight, 
Till by mishap he in his foeraens hand 

did light. 

VIII. 

The third dayes prize unto that straun- 
ger Kjiight, 

Whom ail men term'd Knight of the 
Hebeue speare, 

To Britomart was given by good right ; 

For that with puissant stroke she dowue 
did beare 

The Salvage Knight that victour was 
whileare, 

And all the rest which had the best afore, 

And to the last unconquer'd did appeare ; 

For last is deemed best. To her therefore 

The fayrest Ladie was adjudged for Para- 
more. 



But thereat greatly grudged Arthegall, 
And much repyud, that both of victors 

meede 
And eke of honour she did him forestall. 
Yet mote he not withstand what was de- 

ereede, 
But inly thought of that despightfull 

deede 
Fit time t' awaite avenged for to bee. 
This being ended thus, and all agreed. 
Then next ensew'd the Paragon to see 
Of beauties praise, and yeeld the fayrest 

her due fee. 

X. 

Then first Cambello brought into their 
view 

His faire Cambina, covered with a veale ; 

Which, being once withdrawne, most per- 
fect hew 

And passing beautie did eftsoones reveale. 

That able was weake harts away to steale. 

Next did Sir Triamond unto their sight 

The face of his deare Canacee unheale ; 

Whose beauties beame eftsoones did 
shine so bright, 

That daz'd the eyes of all as with exceed- 
ing light. 

XI. 

And after her did Paridell produce 
His false Duessa, that she might be scene ; 
Who with her forged beautie did seduce 
The hearts of some that fairest her did 

weeue, 
As diverse wits affected divers beene. 
Then did Sir Ferramont unto them shew 
His Lucida, that was full faire and sheene : 
And after these an hundred Ladies moe 



Appear'd in place, the which each other 
did outgoe. 



All which who so dare thinke for to en- 

chace, 
Him needeth sure a golden pen, I weene, 
To tell the feature of each goodly face : 
For, since the day that they created 

beene, 
So many heavenly faces were not seene 
Assembled in one place: ue he that 

thought 
For Chian folke to pourtraict beauties 

Queene, 
By view of all the fairest to him brought, 
So many faire did see as here he might 

have sought. 



At last, the most redoubted Britonesse 
Her lovely Anioret did open shew ; 
Whose face, discovered, plainely did ex- 

presse 
The heavenly pourtraict of bright Angels 

hew. 
Well weened all, which her that time 

did vew. 
That she should surely beare the bell away ; 
Till Blandamour, who thought he had the 

trew 
And very Florimell, did her display. 
The sight of whom once seene did all the 

rest dismay. 



For all afore that seemed fayre and 

bright, 
Now base and contemptible did appeare, 
Compar'd to her that shone as Phebes 

light 
Amongst the lesser starres in evening 

cleare. 
All that her saw with wonder ravisht 

weare. 
And weend no mortall creature she should 

bee. 
But some celestiall shape that flesh did 

beare: 
Yet all were glad there Florimell to see. 
Yet thought that Florimell was not so 

faire as shee. 



XV. 

As guilefull Goldsmith that by secret 
skill 
With golden foyle doth finely over-spred 
Some baser metall, which commend he 

will 
Unto the vulgar for good gold insted'. 



320 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



He much more goodly glosse thereon doth 

shed 
To hide his falshood, then if it were trew: 
So hard this Idole was to be ared, 
That Florimell her selfe in all mens vew 
She seem'd to passe: so forged things do 

fairest shew. 

XVI. 

Then was that golden belt by doome of 
all 

Graunted to her, as to the fayrest Dame. 

Which being brought, about her middle 
small 

They thought to gird, as best it her be- 
came. 

But by no meanes they could it thereto 
frame ; 

For, ever as they fastned it, it loos'd 

And fell away, as feeling secret blame. 

Full oft about her wast she it enclos'd. 

And it as oft was from about her wast 
disclos'd : 



That all men wondred at the uncouth 

sight. 
And each one thought as to their fancies 

came. 
But she her selfe did thinke it doen for 

spight, 
And touched was with secret wrath and 

shame 
Therewith, as thing deviz'd her to defame. 
Then many other Ladies likewise tride 
About their tender loynes to knit the 

same; 
But it would not on none of them abide, 
But when they thought it fast, eftsoones 

it was untide. 

xvin. 

Which when that scornefull Squire of 

Dames did vew. 
He lowdly gan to laugh, and thus to jest; 
' Alas ! for pittie that so faive a crew, 
As like cannot be scene from East to 

West, 
Cannot find one this girdle to invest. 
Fie on the man that did it first invent 
To shame us all with this Ungirt unblest .'. 
Let never Ladie to his love assent, 
That hath this day so many so unmanly 

shent.' 



Thereat all Knights gan laugh, and 

Ladies lowre : 
Till that at last the gentle Amoret 
Likewise assayd to prove that girdles 

powre ; 



And, having it about her middle set. 
Did find it fit withouten breach or let. 
Whereat the rest gan greatly to eiivie, 
But Florimell exceedingly did fret, 
And snatching from her hand halfe 

angrily 
The belt agaiue, about her body gan it 

tie. 

XX. 

Yet nathemore would it her bodie fit; 
Yet nathelesse to her, as her dew right. 
It yielded was by them that judged it : 
And she her selfe adjudged to the Knight 
That bore the Hebene speare, as woune 

in fight. 
But Britomart would not thereto assent, 
Ne her owne Amoret forgoe so light 
For that strange Dame, whose beauties 

wonderment 
The lesse esteem 'd then th' others vertu- 

ous government. 



Whom when the restdid seeherto refuse, 
They w^ere full glad, in hope themselves 

to get her : 
Yet at her choice they all did greatly muse. 
But, after that, the judges did arret her 
Unto the second best that lov'd lier better ; 
That was the Salvage Knight : but he was 

gone. 
In great displeasure that he could not get 

her. 
Then was she judged Triamond his one; 
But Triamond lov'd Canacee, and other 

none, 

XXII. 

Tho unto Satyran she was adjudged, 
Who was right glad to gaine so goodly 

meed: 
But Blandamour thereat full greatly 

grudged, 
And litle prays'd his labours evill speed, , 
That for to winne the saddle lost the steed. 
Ne lesse thereat did Paridell complaine. 
And thought t'appeale from that which 

was decreed 
To single combat with Sir Satyrane: 
Thereto him Ate stird, new discord to 

maintaine. 

XXIII. 

And eke, with these, full many other 
Knights 

She through her wicked working did in- 
cense 

Her to demaund and chalenge as their 
rights. 

Deserved for their perils recompense. 

Amongst the rest, with boastful! vaine 
pretense, 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



321 



Stept Braggadochio forth, and as his 

thrall 
Her claym'd, by him in battell wonne 

long sens : 
Whereto her selfe he did to witnesse call ; 
Who, being askt, accordingly confessed 

all. 



Thereat exceeding wroth was Satyran ; 
And wi"oth with Satyran was Blaiidamour ; 
And wroth with Blandamour was Erivan ; 
And at them both Sir Paridell did loure. 
So all together stird up strifull stoure, 
And readie were new battell to darraine. 
Each one profest to be her paramoure, 
And vow'd with speare and shield it to 

maintaine ; 
Ne Judges powre, ne reasons rule, mote 

them restraine. 



Which troublous stirre when Satyrane 

aviz'd, 
He gan to cast how to appease the same, 
And to accord them all this meanes de- 

viz'd: 
First in the midst to set that fayrest Dame, 
To whom each one his chalenge should 

disclame, 
And he him selfe his right wovild eke re- 

leasse : 
Then, looke to whom she voluntarie came, 
He should without disturbance her pos- 

sesse : 
Sweete is the love that comes alone with 

willingnesse. 



They all agreed: and then that snowy 

Mayd 
Was in the middest plast among them 

all; 
All on her gazing wisht, and vowd, and 

prayd, 
And to the Queene of beautie close did call , 
That she unto their portion might befall. 
Then, when she long had lookt upon each 

one. 
As though she wished to have pleasd them 

all. 
At last to Braggadochio selfe alone 
She came of her accord, in spight of all 

his fone. 

XXVII. 

Which when they all beheld they chaft, 

and rag'd. 
And woxe nigh mad for very harts de- 

spight, 
That from revenge their willes they scarce 

asswag'd ; 



Some thought from him her to have reft 

by might; 
Some proffer made with him for her to 

tight. 
But he nought car'd for all that they could 

say. 
For he their words as wind esteemed light. 
Yet not fit place he thought it there to 

stay, 
But secretly from thence that night her 

bore away. 

XXVIII. 

They which remaynd, so soone as they 

perceiv'd 
That she was gone, departed thence with 

speed. 
And follow'd them, in mind her to have 

reav'd 
From wight unworthie of so noble meed. 
In which poursuit how each one did suc- 

ceede. 
Shall else be told in order, as it fell. 
But now of Britomart it here doth neede 
The hard adventures and strange haps to 

tell. 
Since with the rest she went not after 

Florimell. 



For soone as she them saw to discord 

set. 
Her list no longer in that place abide ; 
But, taking with her lovely Amoret, 
Upon her first adventure forth did ride. 
To seeke her lov'd, making blind love 

her guide. 
Unluckie Mayd, to seeke her enimie! 
Unluckie Mayd, to seeke him farre and 

wide, 
Whom, when he was unto her selfe most 

nie, 
She through his late disguizement could 

him not descrie ! 



So much the more her griefe, the more 
her toyle : 
Yet neither toyle nor griefe she once did 

spare. 
In seeking him that should her paine 

assoyle ; 
Whereto great comfort in her sad misfare 
Was Amoret, companion of her care : 
Who likewise sought her lover long mis- 
went. 
The gentle Scudamour, whose heart whil- 

eare 
That stryfuU hag with gealous discontent 
Had fild, that he to fell reveng was fully 
bent: 



322 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Bent to revenge on blamelesse Brito- 

mart 
The crime which cursed Ate kindled earst, 
The which like thorues did pricke his 

gealous hart, 
And through his soule like poysned arrow 

perst, 
That by no reason it might be reverst, 
For ought that Glance could or doe or say. 
For, aye the more that she the same re- 

herst. 
The more it gauld and griev'd him night 

and day, 
That nought but dire revenge his anger 

mote defray. 



So as they travelled, the drouping night. 
Covered with cloudie storme and bitter 

showre. 
That dreadfull seem'd to every living 

wight, 
Upon them fell, before her timely howre ; 
That forced them to seeke some covert 

bowre. 
Where they might hide their heads in 

quiet rest, 
And shrowd their persons from that 

stormie stowre. 
Not farre away, not meet for any guest, 
They spide a little cottage, like some 

poore man's nest. 

XXXIII. 

Under a steepe hilles side it placed 

was, 
There where the mouldred earth had cav'd 

the banke ; 
And fast beside a little brooke did pas 
Of muddle water, that like puddle stanke. 
By which few crooked sallowes grew in 

ranke : 
Whereto approaching nigh they heard 

the sound 
Of many yron hammers beating ranke, 
And answering their wearie turnes around, 
That seemed some blacksmith dwelt in 

that desert ground. 

xxxiv. 

There entring in, they found the good- 
man selfe 
Full busily unto his worke ybent ; 
Who was to we(^t a wretched wearish elfe. 
With hollow eyes and rawbone cheekes 

forspent, 
As if he had in prison long bene pent: 
Full blacke and griesly did bis face ap- 
peare, 



Besmeard with smoke that nigh his eye- 
sight blent ; 

With rugged beard, and hoarie shagged 
heare. 

The which he never wont to combe, or 
comely sheare. 



Rude was his garment, and to rags all 

rent, 
Ne better had he, ne for better cared : 
With blistred hands emongst the cinders 

brent. 
And fingers filthie with long nayles un- 

pared. 
Right fit to rend the food on which he fared . 
His name was Care ; a blacksmith by his 

trade. 
That neither day nor night from working 

spared, 
But to small purpose yron wedges made ; 
Those be unquiet thoughts that carefull 

minds invade. 

xxxvi. 
In which his worke he had sixe servants 

prest. 
About the Andvile standing evermore 
With huge great hammers, that did never 

rest 
From heaping stroakes which thereon 

soused sore : 
All sixe strong groomes, but one then 

other more ; 
For by degrees they all were disagreed. 
So likewise did the hammers which they 

bore. 
Like belles in greatnesse orderly succeed, 
That he which was the last the first did 

farre exceede. 

XXXVII. 

He like a monstrous Gyant seem'd in 

sight, 
Farre passing Bronteus or Pyracmon 

great, 
The which in Lipari doe day and night 
Frame thunderbolts for Joves avengeful! 

threate. 
So dreadfully he did the andvile beat, 
That seem'd to dust he shortly would it 

drive : 
So huge his hammer, and so fierce his heat. 
That seem'd a rocke of Diamond it could 

rive 
And rend asunder quite, if he thereto list 

strive. 

XXXVIII. 

Sir Scudamour there entring much ad" 
rnire4 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



323 



The manner of their worke and wearie 

paine ; 
And, having long beheld, at last enquired 
The cause and end thereof , but all in vaine ; 
For they for nought would from their 

worke refraine, 
Ne let his speeches come unto their eare. 
And eke the breathfull bellowes blew 

amaine. 
Like to the Northern winde, that none 

could heare : 
Those Pensifenesse did move ; and Sighes 

the bellows weare. 

XXXIX. 

Which when that warriour saw, he said 
no more, 
But in his armour layd him down to rest : 
To rest he layd him downe upon the tlore, 
(Whylome for ventrous Knights the bed- 
ding best) 
And thought his wearie limbs to have 

redrest. 
And that old aged Dame, his faithfuU 

Squire, 
Her feeble joynts layd eke adowne to rest ; 
That needed much her weake age to desire. 
After so long a travell which them both 
did tire. 



There lay Sir Scudamour long while 

expecting 
When gentle sleepe his heavie eyes would 

close ; 
Oft chaunging sides, and oft new place 

electing, 
Where better seem'd he mote himself e 

repose ; 
And oft in wrath he thence againe uprose, 
And oft in wrath he layd him downe 

againe. 
But wheresoever he did himselfe dispose. 
He by no meanes could wished ease ob- 
tain e : 
So every place seem'd painefull, and ech 

changing vaine. 



And evermore, when he to sleepe did 

thinke, 
The hammers sound his senses did molest, 
And evermore, when he began to winke, 
The bellowes noyse disturb 'd his quiet 

rest, 
Ne suffred sleepe to settle in his brest. 
And all the night the dogs did barke and 

howle 
About the house, at sent of stranger guest ; 
And now the crowing Cocke, and now the 

Owle 



Lowde shriking, him afflicted to the very 

sowle. 

XLII. 

And, if by fortune any litle nap 
Upon his heavie eye-lids chauust to fall, 
Eftsoones one of those villeins him did rap 
Upon his headpeece with his yron mall ; 
That he was soone awaked therewithall, 
And lightly started up as one affrayd. 
Or as if one him suddenly did call: 
So oftentimes he out of sleepe abra^yd. 
And then lay musing long on that him ill 
apayd. 

XLIII. 

So long he muzed, and so long he lay, 
That at the last his wearie sprite, opprest 
With fleshly weaknesse, which no crea- 
ture may 
Long time resist, gave place to kindly rest. 
That all his senses did full soone arrest: 
Yet in his soundest sleepe his dayly feare 
His ydle braine gan busily molest, 
And made him dreame those two dis- 

loyall were : 
The things, that day most minds, at night 
doe most appeare. 



With that the wicked carle, the maister 
Smith, 
A paire of red-whot yron tongs did take 
Out of the burning cinders, and therewith 
Under his side him nipt; that, forst to 

wake. 
He felt his hart for very paine to quake, 
And started up avenged for to be 
On him the which his quiet slomber brake : 
Yet, looking round about him, none could 

see; 
Yet did the smart remaine, though he him- 
selfe did flee. 



Tn such disquiet and hart-fretting payne 
He all that night, that too long night, did 

passe 
And now the day out of the Ocean mayne 
Began to peepe above this earthly masse, 
AVith pearly dew sprinkling the morning 

grasse : 
Then up he rose, like heavie lumpe of lead, 
That in his face, as in a looking glasse. 
The signes of anguish one mote plainely 

read, 
And ghesse the man to be dismayd with 

gealous dread. 



Unto his lofty steede he clombe anone. 
And forth upon his former voiage fared, 



324 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



And with him eke that aged Squire attone ; 
Who, whatsoever peril! was prepared, 
Both equal! paines aud equal! peril! 

shared ; 
The end whereof and daungerous event 



Slial! for anotlier canticle he spared : 
But here my wearie teeme, nigh over 

spent, 
Shall breath it selfe awhile after so long 

a went. 



CANTO VI. 



Both Scudamour and Arthegall 
Doe fight with Britomart: 

He sees her face ; doth fall in love, 
And soone from her depart. 



What equal! torment to the griefe of 

mind 
And pyniug anguish hid in gentle hart, 
That inly feeds it selfe with thoughts 

unkind, 
And nourisheth her owne consuming 

smart ? 
What medicine can any Leaches art 
Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance 

hide, 
And will to none her maladie impart? 
Such was the wound that Scudamour^did 

gride, 
For which Dan Phehus selfe cannot a 

salve provide. 



Who having left that restlesse house of 

Care, 
The next day, as he on his way did ride. 
Full of melancholie and sad misfare 
Through misconceipt, all unawares espide 
An armed Knight under a forrest side 
Sitting in shade beside liis grazing steede; 
Who, soone as them approacliing he de- 

scride, 
Gan towards them to pricke with eger 

speede, 
That seem'd he was full bent to some 

mischievous deede. 



Which Scudamour perceiving forth 

issewed 
To have rencountred him in equal! race ; 
But soone as th' other nigh approaching 

vewed 
The armes he bore, his speare he gan 

abase 
And voide his course : at whicli so suddain 

case 
He wondred much. But th' other tlius 

can say : 
' Ah, gentle Scudamour ! unto your grace 
I me submit, and you of pardon pray. 



That almost had against you trespassed 
this day.' 

IV. 

Whereto thus Scudamour : ' Small liarme 
it were 

For any kniglit upon a ventrous knight 

Witliout displeasance for to prove his 
spere. 

But reade you, Sir, sith ye my name have 
hight. 

What is your owne, that I mote you re- 
quite ? ' 

* Certes,' (sayd he) ' ye mote as now ex- 
cuse 

Me from discovering you my name aright. 

For time yet serves that I the same refuse ; 

But call ye me the Salvage Knight, as 
others use.' 

V. 

'Then this, Sir Salvage Kniglit,' (quoth 

he) ' areede : 
Or doe you here within this forrest wonne. 
That seemeth we!! to answere to your 

weede, 
Or have ye it for some occasion donue ? 
That rather seemes, sitli knowen armes 

ye shonne.' 
' This other day ' (sayd he) ' a stranger 

knight 
Shame and dishonour liath unto me doune. 
On whom I waite to wreake tliat foule de- 

spight. 
When ever he this way shall passe by day 

or night.' 

VI. 

' Shame be his meede,' (quoth he) ' tliat 

meaneth shame ! 
But what is he by whom ye shamed were ? ' 
' A stranger knight,' sayd he, ' unknowne 

by name. 
But knowne by fame, and by an Hebene 

speare, 
With which he all that met him downe 

did beare. 
He, in an open Turney lately held. 
Fro me the honour of that game did reare ; 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



325 



And having me, all wearie earst, downe 

feld, 
The layrest Ladle reft, and ever since 

withheld.' 

VII. 

When Scudamour heard mention of that 

speare, 
He wist right well that it was Britomart, 
The which fi'om him his fairest love did 

beare. 
Tho gan he swell in every inner part 
For fell despight, and gnaw his gealons 

hart, 
That thus he sharply sayd : ' Now, by my 

head, 
Yet is not this the first unknightly part. 
Which that same knight, whom by his 

launce I read. 
Hath doen to noble knights, that many 

makes him dread : 

VIII. 

'. For lately he my love hath fro me reft. 
And eke defiled with foule villanie 
The sacred pledge which in his faith was 

left. 
In shame of knighthood and fidelitie ; 
The which ere long full deare he shall 

abie: 
And if to that avenge by you decreed 
This hand may helpe, or succour ought 

supplie, 
It shall not fayle when so ye shall it 

need.' 
So both to wreake their wrathes on Brito- 
mart agreed. 



Whiles thus they communed, lo! farre 

away 
A Knight soft ryding towards them they 

spyde, 
Attyr'd in forraine amies and strauuge 

a ray : 
Whom, when they nigh approcht, they 

plaine descryde 
To be the same for whom they did abyde. 
Sayd then Sir Scudamour : ' Sir Salvage 

knight, 
Let me this crave, sith first I was defyde, 
That first I may that wrong to hini re- 
quite ; 
And, if I hap to fayle, you shall recure 

my right.' 

X. 

Which being yeelded, he his threatfuU 

speare 
Gan fewter, and against her fiercely ran. 
Who soone as she him saw approching 

ueare 



With so fell rage, her selfe she lightly gan 
To dight, to welcome him well as she can 
But entertaind him in so rude a wise, 
That to the ground she smote both horse 

and man ; 
Whence neither greatly hasted to arise. 
But on their common harmes together did 

devise. 

XI. 

But Artegall, beholding his mis- 

chaunce. 
New matter added to his former fire ; 
And, eft aventriug his steele-headed 

launce. 
Against her rode, full of despiteous ire, 
That nought but spoyle and vengeance 

did require : 
But to himselfe his felonous intent 
Returning disappointed his desire, 
Whiles unawares his saddle he forwent. 
And found himselfe on ground in great 

amazement. 



Lightly he started up out of that stound, 
And snatching forth his direfull deadly 

blade 
Did leape to her, as doth an eger hound 
Thrust to an Hynd within some covert 

glade, 
Whom without perill he cannot invade. 
With such fell greedines he her assayled. 
That though she mounted were, yet he 

her made 
To give him ground, (so much his force 

prevayled) 
And shun his mightie strokes, gainst 

which no amies avayled. 

XIII. 

So, as they coursed here and there, it 

chaunst 
That, in her wheeling round, behind her 

crest 
So sorely he her strooke, that thence it 

glaunst 
Adowne her backe, the which it fairely 

blest 
From foule mischance ; ne did it ever rest. 
Till on her horses hinder parts it fell ; 
Where byting deepe so deadly it imprest. 
That quite it chynd his backe behind the 

sell, 
And to alight on foote her algates did 

compell : 

XIV. 

Like as the lightning brond from riven 
skie, 
Throwne out by angry Jove in his ven- 
geance, 



326 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



With dreadful! force falles on some steeple 

hie; 
"Which battring downe, it on the church 

doth glance, 
And teares it all with terrible mischance. 
Yet she no whit dismaj'd her steed for- 

sooke, 
And, casting from her that enchaunted 

launce, 
Unto her sword and shield her sooue be- 

tooke ; 
And therewithal! at him right furiously 

she strooke. 

XV. 

So furiously she strooke in her first 

heat, 
Whiles with long fight on foot he breath- 

lesse was, 
That she him forced backward to retreat, 
And yeeld unto lier weapon way to pas : 
Wliose raging rigour neither Steele nor 

bras 
Could Stay, but to the tender flesh it 

went, 
And pour'd the purple bloud forth on the 

gras; 
That all his mayle yriv'd, and plates 

yrent, 
Shew'd all his bodie bare unto the cruell 

dent. 

XVI. 

At length, when as he saw her hastie 

heat 
Abate, and panting breath begin to fayle. 
He, through long sufferance growing now 

more great. 
Rose in his strength, and gan her fresh 

assayle, 
Heaping huge strokes as thicke as showre 

of hayle. 
And lashing dreadfully at every part, 
As if he thought her soule to diseutrayle. 
Ah, cruell hand ! and thrise moi'e cruell 

hart. 
That workst such wrecke on her to whom 

thou dearest art ! 



What yron courage ever could endure 
To worke such outrage on so faire a crea- 
ture ; 
And in his madnesse thinke with hands 

impure 
To spoyle so goodly workmanship of 

nature, 
The maker selfe resembling in her fea- 
ture! 
Certes some hellish furie or some feend 
This raischiefe framd for their first loves 
defeature. 



To bath their hands in bloud of dearest 

freend, 
Thereby to make their loves beginning 

their lives end. 

XVIII. 

Thus long they trac'd and traverst to 

and fro, 
Sometimes pursewing, and sometimes 

purse wed, 
Still as advantage they espyde thereto : 
But toward th' end Sir Arthegall renewed 
His strength still more, but she still more 

decrewed. 
At last his lucklesse hand he heav'd on 

hie. 
Having his forces all in one accrewed. 
And therewith stroke at her so hideouslie. 
That seemed nought but death mote be 

her destinie. 

XIX. 

The wicked stroke upon her helmet 

chaunst. 
And with the force, whiche in it selfe it 

bore, 
Her veutayle shard away, and thence 

forth giaunst 
Adowne in vaine, ne harm'd her any 

more. 
With that her angels face, unseene afore, 
Like to the ruddie morne appeard in sight, 
Deawed with silver drops through sweat- 
ing sore, 
But somewhat redder then beseem'd 

aright. 
Through toylesome heate and labour of 

her weary fight, 

XX. 

And round about the same her yellow 
heare. 
Having through stirring loosd their 

wonted band. 
Like to a golden border did appeare, 
Framed in goldsmithes forge with cun- 
ning hand : 
Yet goldsmithes cunning could not under- 
stand 
To frame such subtile wire, so shinie 

cleare ; 
For it did glister like the golden sand, 
The which Paetolus with his waters shere 
Throwes forth upon the rivage round 
about him nere. 



And as his hand he up againe did reare, 
Thinking to worke on her his utmost 
wracke. 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



327 



His powrelesse arme, beuumbd Avith 

secret feare, 
From his reveugefull purpose shrouke 

abacke, 
And cruell sword out of his fingers slacke 
Fell downe to ground ; as if the Steele had 

sence, 
And felt some ruth or sence his hand did 

lacke, 
Or both of them did thinke obedience 
To doe to so divine a beauties excellence. 



And he himselfe, long gazing there- 
upon , 
At last fell humbly downe upon his knee, 
And of his wonder made religion, 
Weening some heavenly goddesse he did 

see, 
Or else unweeting what it else might 

bee; 
And pardon her besought his errour 

frayle, 
That had done outrage in so high degree : 
Whilest trembling horrour did his sense 

assayle, 
And made ech member quake, and manly 
hart to quayle. 

XXIII. 

Nathelesse she, full of wrath for that 

late stroke, 
All that long while upheld her wrathfull 

hand. 
With fell intent on him to bene ywroke ; 
And, looking sterne, still over him did 

stand, 
Threatning to strike unlesse he would 

withstand : 
And bad him rise, or surely he should 

die. 
But, die or live, for nought he would up- 

stand. 
But her of pardon prayd more earnestlie, 
Or wreake on him her will for so great 

injurie. 

XXIV. 

Which when as Soudamour, who now 
abrayd, 
Beheld, whereas he stood not farre aside, 
He was therewith right wondrously dis- 

mayfl ; 
And drawing nigh, when as he plaine de- 
scride 
; That peerelesse paterne of Dame Natures 
[ pride 

And heavenly image of perfection, 
I He blest himselfe as one sore terrifide: 

And, turning feare to faint devotion, 
I Did worship her as some celestial! vision. 



But Glance, seeing all that chaunced 

there, 

Well weeting how their errour to assoyle, 

Full glad of so good end, to them drew 
nere. 

And her salewd with seemely bel-accoyle. 

Joyous to see her safe after long toyle. 

Then her besought, as she to her was 
deare. 

To graunt unto those warriours truce a 
whyle ; 

Which yeelded, they their bevers up did 
reare, 

And shew'd themselves to her such as in- 
deed they were. 



When Britomart with sharpe avizefuU 
eye 
Beheld the lovely face of Artegall 
Tempred with sternesse and stout majes- 
tic. 
She gan eftsoones it to her mind to call 
To be the same which in her fathers hall 
Long since in that enchauuted glasse she 

saw; 
Therewith her wrathfull courage gan 

appall, 
And haughtie spirits meekely to adaw. 
That her enhaunced hand she downe can 
soft withdraw. 



Yet she it forst to have againe upheld, 
As fayning choler which was turn'd to 

cold : 
But ever when his visage she beheld, 
Her hand fell downe, and would no longer 

hold 
The wrathfull weapon gainst his count- 
nance bold : 
But, when in vaine to fight she oft assayd, 
She arm'd her tongue^ and thought at 

him to scold ; 
Nathlesse her tongue not to her will 

obayd, 
But brought forth speeches myld when 
she would have missayd. 



But Scudamour, now woxen inly glad 
That all his gealous feare he false had 

found, 
And how that Hag his love abused had 
With l)reach of faith and loyaltie unsound. 
The which long time his grieved hart did 

wound, 
Him thus bespake : * Certes, Sir Artegall, 
I joy to see you lout so low on ground, 



328 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



And now become to live a Ladies thrall, 
That whylome in your minde wont to 
despise them all.' 

XXIX. 

Soone as she heard the name of Artegall, 
Her hart did leape, and all her hart-strings 

tremble, 
For sudden joy and secret feare withall; 
And all her vitall powres, with motion 

nimble 
To succour it, themselves gan there 

assemble ; 
That by the swift recourse of flushing 

blood 
Right plaine appeard, though she it would 

dissemble. 
And fayned still her former angry mood, 
Thinking to hide the depth by troubling 

of the flood. 



When Glance thus gan wisely all up- 
knit: 
' Ye gentle Knights, whom fortune here 

hath brought 
To be spectators of this uncouth fit. 
Which secret fate hath in this Ladie 

wrought 
Against the course of kind, ne mervaile 

nought, 
Ne thenceforth feare the thing that 

hethertoo 
Hath troubled both your mindes with idle 

thought, 
Fearing least she your loves away should 

woo: 
Feared in vaine, sith meanes, ye see, 

there wants theretoo. 

XXXI. 

'And you, Sir Artegall, the salvage 

knight. 
Henceforth may not disdaine that womans 

hand 
Hath conquered you anew in second 

fight : 
For whylome they have conquerd sea 

and land, 
And heaven it selfe, that nought may 

them withstand. 
Ne henceforth be rebellious unto love, 
That is the crowne of knighthood, and 

the band 
Of noble minds derived from above. 
Which, being knit with vertue, never will 

remove. 

XXXII. 

'And yon, faire Ladie knight, my 
dearest Dame, 



Relent the rigour of j'our wrathfull will, 
Whose fire were better turn'd to otlier 

flame ; 
And, wiping out remembrance of all ill, 
Graunt him your grace; but so that he 

fulfill 
The penance which ye shall to him em- 
part : 
For lovers heaven must passe by sor- 

rowes hell.' 
Thereat full inly blushed Britomart, 
But Artegall close smyling joy'd in secret 
hart. 

XXXIII. 

Yet durst he not make love so sud- 
denly, 
Ne thinke th' affection of her hart to 

draw 
From one to other so quite contrary: 
Besides her modest countenance he saw 
So goodly grave, and full of princely aw, 
That it his ranging fancie did refraine. 
And looser thoughts to lawfull bounds 

withdraw ; 
Whereby the passion grew more fierce 

and faine. 
Like to a stubborne steede whom strong 
hand would restraine. 



But Scudamour, whose hart twixt 

doubtfull feare 
And feeble hope hung all this Avhile sus- 

pence, 
Desiring of his Amoret to heare 
SomegladfuU newes and sure intelligence, 
Her thus bespake: 'But, Sir, without 

offence 
Mote I request you tydings of my love, 
My Amoret, sith you her'freed fro thence 
Wliere she, captived long, great woes did 

prove ; 
That where ye left I may her seeke, as 

doth behove.' 



To whom thus Britomart : ' Certes, Sir 

knight. 
What is of her become, or whether reft, 
T can not unto you aread a right: 
For from that time I from enchaunters 

theft 
Her freed, in which ve her all hopelesse 

left, 
I her preserv'd from perill and from feare, 
And evermore from villenie her kept: 
Ne ever was there wight to me more 

deare 
Then she, ne unto whom I more true love 

did beare : 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



' Till on a day, as through a desert wyld 
We travelled, both ^vearie of the way 
We did alight, and sate iu shadow my Id, 
Where iearelesse I to sleepe me dowue 

did lay : 
But when as I did out of sleepe abray, 
I found her not where I her left whyleare 
But thought she wandred was, or gone 

astray : 
I cal'd her loud, I sought her farre and 

neare. 
But no where could her find, nor tydings 

of her heare.' 



When Scudaraour those heavie tydings 

heard. 
His hart was thrild with point of deadly 

feare, 
Ne in his face or bloud or life appeard ; 
But senselesse stood, like to a mazed 

steare 
That yet of raortall stroke the stound 

doth beare. 
Till Glance thus : * Faire Sir, be nought 

dismayd 
With needlesse dread, till certaintie ye 

heare ; 
For yet she may be safe though some- 
what strayd : 
Its best to hope the best, though of the 

worst affrayd.' 



Nathlesse he hardly of her chearefull 

speech 
Did comfort take, or in his troubled sight 
Shew'd change of better cheare : so sore 

a breach 
That sudden newes had made into his 

spright, 
Till Britomart him fairely thus behight : 
' Great cause of sorrow certes, Sir, ye 

have ; 
But comfort take; for, by this heavens 

light. 
I vow you dead or living not to leave, 
Till I her find, and wreake on him that 

did her reave.' 

XXXIX. 

Therewith he rested, and well pleased 

was: 
So, peace being confirm'd amongst them 

all, 
They tooke their steeds, and forward 

thence did pas 
Unto some resting place, which mote 

befall, 



329 

All being guided by Sir Artegall : 
Where goodly solace was unto them 

made. 
And dayly feasting both in bowre and 

hall, 
Untill that they their wounds well healed 

had, 
And wearie limmes recur'd after late 



In all which time Sir Artegall made 

way 
Unto the love of noble Britomart, 
And with meeke service and much suit 

did lay 
Continuall siege unto her gentle hart ; 
Which, being whylome launcht with 

lovely dart, 
More eath was new impression to receive ; 
How ever she her paynd with womanish 

art 
To hide her wound, that none might it 

perceive : 
Vaiue is the art that seekes it selfe for to 

deceive. 

XLI. 

So well he woo'd her, and so well he 
wrought her, 

With faire entreatie and sweet blandish- 
ment, 

That at the length unto a bay he brought 
her, 

80 as she to his speeches was content 

To lend an eare, and softly to relent. 

At last, through many vowes which forth 
he pour'd, 

And many othes, she yeelded her consent 

To be his love, and take him for her 
Lord, ^ 

Till they with mariage meet might fiirtSn 
that accord. 

XLII. 

Tho, when they had long time there 

taken rest. 
Sir Artegall, who all this while was 

bound 
Upon an hard adventure yet in quest. 
Fit time for him thence to depart it 

found, 
To follow that which he did long pro- 
pound. 
And unto her his congee came to take; 
But her therewith full sore displeasd he 

found. 
And loth to leave her late betrothed 

make. 
Her dearest love full loth so shortly to 

forsake. 



330 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Yet he Aviih strong perswasious her 
asswaged, 
Aud wonne her will to suffer him de- 
part; 
For which his faith with her he fast 

engaged, 
And thousand vowes from bottome of his 

hart, 
That, all so soone as he by wit or art 
Could that atchieve whereto he did as- 
pire. 
He unto her would speedily revert : 
No longer space thereto he did desire, 
But till the horned moone three courses 
did expire. 



With which she for the present was 

appeased, 
And yeelded leave, how ever malcontent 
She inly were and in her niiud displeased. 
So, early in the morrow next, he went 
Forth on his way to which he was ybent ; 
Ne wight him to attend, or way to 

guide. 
As whylome was the custome ancient 
Mongst Knights when on adventures they 

did ride. 
Save that she algates him a while accom- 

panide. 

XLV. 

And by the way she sundry purpose 

found 
Of this or that, the time for to delay. 
And of the perils whereto he was bound, 
The feare whereof seem'd much her to 

affray ; 
But all she did was but to weare out 

day. 



Full oftentimes she leave of him did 

take; 
And eft againe deviz'd some what to say, 
Which she forgot, whereby excuse to 

make ; 
So loth she was his companie for to 

forsake. 

XLVI. 

At last, when all her speeches she had 

spent. 

And new occasion fay Id her more to find, 

She left him to his fortunes government, 

And backe returned with right heavie 

mind 
To Scudamour, whom she had left be- 
hind: 
With whom she went to seeke faire 

Amoret, 
Her second care, though in another kind: 
For vertues onely sake, whicli doth be- 
get 
True love and faithfull friendship, she 
by her did set. 

XLVII. 

Backe to that, desert forrest they re- 
tyred. 

Where sorie Brltomart had lost her late ; 

There they her sought, and every where 
inquired 

Where they might tydiugs get of her 
estate ; 

Yet found they none. But by what hap- 
lesse fate 

Or hard misfortune she was thence con- 
vayd. 

And stolne away from her beloved mate, 

Were long to tell; therefore, I here will 
stay 

Untill another tyde that I it finish may. 



CANTO VH. 

Araoret rapt by grcedie lust 

Belphebe saves from dread : 
The Squire her loves ; and, being blam'd. 

His daves in dole doth lead. 



Great God of love, that with thy cruell 

darts 
Doest conquer greatest conquerors on 

ground. 
And setst thy Kingdome in the captive 

harts 
Of Kings and Keasars to thy service 

bound ; 
What glorie, or what guerdon hast thou 

found 
In feeble Ladies tyranuiug so sore, 



And adding anguish to the bitter wound 
With which their lives thou lanchedst 

long afore, 
By heaping slormes of trouble on them 

daily more? 

II. 

So whylome didst thou to faire Flori- 

mell, 
And so and so to noble Britomart: 
So doest thou now to her of whom I 

tell. 
The lovely Amoret, whose gentle hart 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



33^ 



Thou martyrest with sorow and with 

smart, 
In salvage forrests and in deserts wide 
With Beares and Tygers taking heavie 

part, 
Withouten comfort and withouten guide, 
That pittie is to heare the perils which 

she tride. 

III. 
So soone as she with that brave Briton- 

esse 
Had left that Turneyment for beauties 

prise, 
They travel'd long ; that now for weari- 

nesse. 
Both of the way and warlike exercise. 
Both through a forest ryding did devise 
T' alight, and rest their wearie limbs 

awhile. 
There heavie sleepe the eye-lids did sur- 
prise 
Of Britomart, after long tedious toyle, 
That did her passed paines in quiet rest 

assoyle. 

IV. 

The whiles faire Amoret, of nought 

affeard, 
"Walkt through the wood, for pleasure or 

for need ; 
When suddenly behind her backe she 

heard 
One rushing forth out of the thickest 

weed , 
That, ere she backe could turne to taken 

heed, 
Had unawares her snatched up from 

ground : 
Feebly she shriekt, but so feebly indeed 
That Britomart heard not the shrilling 

sound. 
There where through weary travel she 

lay sleeping sound. 



It was to weeta wilde and salvage man ; 
Yet was no man, but onely like in shape. 
And eke in stature higher by a span ; 
All overgrowue with haire, that could 

awhape 
An hardy hart; and his wide mouth did 

gape 
With huge great teeth, like to a tusked 

Bore : 
For he liv'd all on ravin and on rape 
Of men and beast ; and fed on fleshly gore. 
The signe whereof yet stain 'd his bloudy 

lips afore. 

VI. 

His neather lip was not like man nor 
beast, 



But like a wide deepe poke, downe hang- 
ing low, 

In which he wont the relickes of his feast 

And cruell spoyle, which he had spard, to 
stow : 

And over it his huge great nose did grow, 

Full dreadfully empurpled all with bloud ; 

And downe both sides two wide long eares 
did glow, 

And rauglit downe to his waste when up 
he stood. 

More great then th' eares of Elephants 
by Indus flood. 

VII. 

His wast was with a wreath of yvie 

greene 
Engirt about, ne other garment wore, 
For all his haire was like a garment 

scene ; 
And in his hand a tall young oake he 

bore. 
Whose knottie snags were sharpned all 

afore, 
And beath'd in fire for Steele to be in sted. 
But whence he was, or of what wombe 

ybore. 
Of beasts, or of the earth, I have not red. 
But certes was with niilke of Wolves and 

Tygres fed. 

VIII. 

This ugly creature in his amies her 
snatch t, 

And through the forrest bore her quite 
away. 

With briers and bushes all to-rent and 
scratch t ; 

Xe care he had, ne pittie of the pray. 

Which many a knight had sought so many 
a day. 

He stayed not, but in his armes her bear- 
ing 

Ran, till he came to th' end of all his way. 

Unto his cave farre from all peoples hear- 
ings 

And there he threw her in, nought feeling, 
ne nought fearing. 

IX. 

For she, deare Ladie, all the way was 

dead, 
Whilest he in armes her bore ; but, when 

she felt 
Her selfe downe soust, she waked out of 

dread 
Streight into griefe, that her deare hart 

nigh swelt. 
And eft gan into tender teares to melt. 
Then, when she lookt about, and nothing 

found 



332 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV, 



But darknesse and dread horrour where 

she dwelt, 
She almost fell againe into a swound, 
Ne wist whether above she were or under 

ground. 

X. 

With that she heard some one close by 
her side 
Sighing and sobbing sore, as if the paine 
Her tender hart in peeces would divide: 
Which she long listuing, softly askt againe 
What mister wight it was that so did 

plaine ? 
To whom thus aunswer'd was : ' Ah, 

wretched wight! 
That seekes to know anothers griefe in 

vaine, 
Unweeting of thine owne like haplesse 

plight : 
Selfe to forget to mind another is over- 
sight.' 

XI. 

' Aye me ! ' (said she) ' where am I, or 

with whom ? 
Emong the living, or emong the dead ? 
What shall of me, unhappy maid, become ? 
Shall death be th' end, or ought else worse, 

a read ? ' 
' Unhappy mayd ' (then answer'd she) , 

* whose dread 
Untride is lesse then when thou shalt it 

try: 
Death is to him, that wretched life doth 

lead. 
Both grace and gaine ; but he in hell doth 

lie, 
That lives a loathed life, and wishing can- 
not die. 



'This dismall day hath thee a caytive 

made, 
And vassall to the vilest wretch alive. 
Whose cursed usage and ungodly trade 
The heavens abhorre, and into darkenesse 

drive; 
For on the spoile of women he doth live, 
Whose bodies chast, when ever in his 

powre 
He may them catch unable to gainestrive. 
He with his shamefull lust doth first de- 

flowre. 
And afterwardes themselves doth cruelly 

devoure. 

XIII. 

' Now twenty dales, by which the sonnes 

of men 
Divide their works, have past through 

heven sheene, 
Since I was brought into this dolefull den ; 



During which space these sory eies have 

seen 
Seaven women by him slaine, and eaten 

clene : 
And now no more for him but I alone. 
And this old woman, here remaining 

beene. 
Till thou cam'st hither to augment our 

mone ; 
And of us three to morrow he will sure 

eate one.' 

XIV. 

' Ah, dreadfull tidings which thou doest 

declare,' 
(Quoth she) ' of all that ever hath bene 

knowen ! 
Full many great calamities and rare 
This feebie brest endured hath, but none 
Equall to this, where ever I have gone. 
But what are you, whom like unlucky lot 
Hath linckt with me in the same chaine 

attone ? ' 
' To tell ' (quoth she) ' that what ye see, 

needs not ; 
A wof ull wretched maid, of God and man 

forgot ! 

XV. 

' But what I was it irkes me to reherse ; 
Daughter unto a Lord of high degree ; 
That joyd in happy peace, till fates per- 
verse 
With guilef ull love did secretly agree 
To overthrow my state and dignitie. 
It was my lot to love a gentle swaine, 
Yet was he but a Squire of low degree ; 
Yet was he meet, unless mine eye did f aine, 
By any Ladies side for Leman to have 
laine, 

XVI. 

' But for his meannesse and disparage- 
ment. 
My Sire, who me too dearely well did love. 
Unto my ehoise by no meanes would 

assent. 
But often did my folly fowle reprove : 
Yet nothing could my fixed mind remove, 
But, whether willed or nilled friend or foe, 
I me resolv'd the utmost end to prove; 
And, rather then my love abandon so, 
Both sire and friends and all for ever to 
forgo. 

XVII. 

' Thenceforth I sought by secret meanes 

to worke 
Time to my will, and from his wrathfuU 

sight 
To hide th' intent which in my heart did 

lurke. 
Till I thereto had all things ready dight. 



CANTO VI I.J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



333 



So on a day, unweeting unto wight, 
I with that .Squire agreede away to tlit, 
And in a privy place, betwixt us hight. 
Within a grove appointed him to meete ; 
To which I boldly came upon my feeble 
feete. 

XVIII. 

* But ah ! unhappy houre me thither 

brought, 
For in that place where I him thought to 

find, 
There was I found, contrary to my 

thought. 
Of this accursed Carle of hellish kind, 
The shame of men, and plague of woman- 
kind : 
Who trussing me, as Eagle doth his pray, 
Me liether brought with him as swift as 

wind. 
Where yet untouched till this present day, 
I rest his wretched thrall, the sad 
JEmyWa.' 

XIX. 

* Ah, sad iEmylia! ' (then sayd Amoret) 
' Thy ruefull plight I pitty as mine owne. 
But read to me, by what devise or wit 
Hast thou in all this time, from him un- 

knowne. 
Thine honor sav'd, though into thraldome 

throwne ? ' 
* Through helpe ' (quoth she) 'of this old 

woman here 
I have so done, as she to me hath showne ; 
For, ever when he burnt in lustfull fire, 
She in my stead supplide his bestiall 

desire.' 

XX. 

Thus of their evils as they did discourse. 
And each did other muchbewaile and mone, 
Loe! where the villaine selfe, their sor- 

rowes sourse, 
Came to the cave ; and rolling thence the 

stone, 
Which wont to stop the mouth thereof, 

that none 
Might issue forth, came rudely rushing in, 
And, spredding over all the flore alone, 
Gan dight him selfe unto his wonted 

sinne ; 
Which ended, then his bloudy banket 

should beginne. 

XXI. 

Which when as fearefull Amoret per- 
ceived. 
She staid not th' utmost end thereof to try, 
But, like a ghastly Gelt whose wits are 

reaved, 
Ran forth in hast with hideous outcry, 



For horrour of his shamefull villany : 
But after her full lightly he uprose. 
And her pursu'd as fast as she did tlie : 
Full fast she flies, .and farre afore him goes, 
Ne feeles the thornes and thickets pricke 
her tender toes. 

XXII. 

Nor hedge, nor ditch, nor hill, nor dale 

she stales. 
But overle<apes them all, like Robucke 

light. 
And through the thickest makes her nigh- 

est waies ; 
And evermore, when with regardfull sight 
She looking backe espies that griesly 

wight 
Approching nigh, she gins to mend her 

pace. 
And makes her feare a spur to hast her 

flight : 
More swift then Myrrh' or Daphne in her 

race. 
Or any of the Thracian Nimphes in salvage 

chase. 

XXIII. 

Long so she fled, and so he follow'd 

long ; 
Ne living aide for her on earth appeares, 
But-if the heavens helpe to redresse her 

wrong. 
Moved with pity of her plenteous teares. 
It fortuned Belphebe with her peares. 
The woody Nimphs, and with that lovely 

boy, 
Was hunting then the Libbards and the 

Beares 
In these wild woods, as was her wonted joy, 
To banish sloth that oft doth noble mindes 

annoy. 

XXIV. 

It so befell, as oft it fals in chace, 
That each of them from other sundred 

were ; 
And that same gentle Squire arriv'd in 

place 
Where this same cursed caytive did ap- 

peare 
Pursuing that faire Lady full of feare: 
And now he her quite overtaken had; 
And now he her away with him did beare 
Under his arme, as seeming wondrous 

Rlad, 
That by his grenning laughter mote farre 

off be rad. 

XXV, 

AVhich drery sight the gentle Squire 
espying 
Doth hast to crosse him by the nearest 
way, 



334 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Led with that wofull Ladies piteous cry- 
ing, 

Aud him assailes with all the might he 
may ; 

Yet will not he the lovely spoile dowue 
lay, 

But with his craggy club in his right hand 

Defends him sella, and saves his gotten 
pray : 

Yet had it bene right hard him to with- 
stand, 

But that he was full light and nimble on 
the land. 

XXVI. 

Thereto the villain e used craft in fight ; 
For, ever when the Squire his javelin 

shooke, 
He held the Lady forth before him right, 
And with her body, as a buckler, broke 
The puissance of his intended stroke : 
And if it chauust, (as needs it must in 

fight) 
Whilest he on him was greedy to be wroke, 
That any little blow on her did light, 
Then would he laugh aloud, and gather 

great delight. 

XX vn. 
Which subtill sleight did him encumber 

much, 
And made him oft, when he would strike, 

forbeare ; 
For hardly could he come the cai-le to 

touch, 
But that he her must hurt, or hazard 

neare : 
Yet he his hand so carefully did beare, 
That at the last he did himselfe attaine, 
And therein left the pike-head of his 

speare : 
A streame of coleblacke bloud thence 

gusht amaine, 
That all her silken garments did with 

bloud bestaine. 



With that he threw her rudely on the 

flore, 
And, laying both his hands upon his 

glave, 
With dreadf uU strokes let drive at him so 

sore, 
That forst him flie abacke, himselfe to 

save : 
Yet he therewith so felly still did rave, 
That scarse the Squire his hand could 

once upreare, 
But for advantage ground unto him gave, 
Tracing and traversing, now here, now 

there ; 



For bootlesse thing it was to think such 
blowes to beare. 



Whilest thus in battell they embusied 

were, 
Belphebe, raunging in that forrest wide, 
The hideous noise of their huge strokes 

did heare. 
And drew thereto, making her eare her 

guide : 
Whom when that theefe approching nigh 

espide 
With bow in hand and arrowes r( 

bent, 

He by his former combate would not bide, 
But fled away with ghastly dreriment. 
Well knowing her to be his deaths sole 

instrument. 



AVhom seeing flie she speedily pourse wed 
With winged feete as nimble as the winde, 
And ever in her bow she ready shewed 
The arrow to his deadly marke desynde. 
As when Latonaes daughter, cruell kyude, 
In vengement of her mothers great dis- 
grace, 
With fell despight her cruell arrowes 

tynde 
Gainst wofull Niobes unhappy race, 
That all the gods did raone her miserable 
case. 

XXXI. 

So well she sped her, and so far she 
ventred. 
That, ere unto his hellish den he raught. 
Even as he ready was there to have entred. 
She sent an arrow forth with mighty 

draught, 
That in the very dore him overcaught, 
And, in his nape arriving, through it thrild 
His greedy throte, therewith in two dis- 
traught, 
That all his vitall spirites thereb^'^ spild, 
And all his hairy brest with gory bloud 
was fild. 

XXXII. 

Whom when on ground she groveling 

saw to rowle, 
She ran in hast his life to have bereft; 
But, ere she could him reach, the sinfull 

sowle 
Having his carrion corse quite sencelesse 

left 
Was fled to hell, surcharg'd with spoile 

and theft : 
Yet over him she there long gazing stood, 
And oft admir'd his monstrous shape, and 

oft 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



335 



His mighty limbs, wiiilest all with filthy 

bloud 
The place there overflowne seemd like a 

sodaine flood. 



Thence forth she past into his dreadfull 

den, 
Where nought but darkesome drerinesse 

she found, 
Ne creature saw, but hearkued now and 

then 
Some litle whispering, and soft groning 

sound. 
With that she askt, what ghosts there 

under ground 
Lay hid in horrour of eternall night? 
And bad them, if so be they were not 

bound. 
To come and shew themselves before the 

light. 
Now freed from feare and danger of that 

dismall wight. 



Then forth the sad ^Emylia issewed, 
Yet trembling every joynt through former 

feare ; 
And after her the Hag, there with her 

mewed, 
A foule and lothsome creature, did ap- 

peare, 
A leman fit for such a lover deare : 
That mov'd Belpliebe her no lesse to hate. 
Then for to rue the others heavy cheare; 
Of whom she gan enquire of her estate. 
Who all to her at large, as happned, did 

relate. 

XXXV. 

Thence she them brought toward the 

place where late 
She left the gentle Squire with Amoret : 
There she him found by that new lovely 

mate. 
Who lay the whiles in swoune, full sadly 

set. 
From her fairs eyes wiping the deawy 

wet 
Which softly stild, and kissing them 

atweene. 
And handling soft the hurts which she 

did get ; 
For of that Carle she sorely bruz'd had 

beene, 
Als of his owne rash hand one wound was 

to be seene. 

XXXVI. 

Which when she saw with sodaine 
glauncing eye, 



Her noble heart with sight thereof was 
fild 

With deepe disdaine and great indignity, 

That in her wrath she thought them both 
have thrild 

With that selfe arrow which the Carle 
had kild ; 

Yet held her wrathfull hand from ven- 
geance sore : 

But drawing nigh, ere he her well beheld, 

' Is this the faith ? ' she said — and said 
no more, 

But turnd her face, and fled away for 
evermore. 

XXXVII. 

He seeing her depart arose up light, 
Right sore agrieved at her sharpe re- 
proof e, 
And foUow'd fast; but, when he came in 

sight, 
He durst not nigh approch, but kept aloofe, 
For dread of her displeasures utmost 

proofe : 
And evermore, when he did grace entreat, 
And framed speaehes fit for his behool'e. 
Her mortall arrowes she at him did threat. 
And forst him backe with fowle dishonor 
to retreat. 

XXXVIII. 

At last, when long he follow'd had in 

value, 
Yet found no ease of griefe nor hope of 

grace. 
Unto those woods he turned backe againe, 
Full of sad anguish and in heavy case : 
And, finding there fit solitary place 
For wofull wight, chose out a gloomy 

glade, 
Where hardly eye mote see bright heavens 

face 
For mossy trees, which covered all with 

shade 
And sad melancholy : there he his cabin 

made. 



Hiswonted warlike weapons all he broke 
And threw away, with vow to use no 

more, 
Ne thenceforth ever strike in battell 

stroke, 
Ne ever word to speake to woman more ; 
But in that wildernesse, of men forlore. 
And of the wicked world forgotten quight, 
His hard mishap in dolor to deplore. 
And wast his wretched dales in wofull 

plight ; 
So on him selfe to wreake his follies owne 

despight. 



336 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



XL. 

And eke his garment, to be thereto meet, 
He wilfully did cut and .shape anew; 
And his faire lockes, that wont with oint- 
ment sweet 
To be embaulm'd, and sweat out dainty- 
dew, 
He let to grow and griesly to concrew, 
Uiieomb'd, uncurl vCaiul careleslj' unshed ; 
That in short time his lace they overgrew, 
And over all his shoulders did dispred. 
That who he whilome was uneath was to 
be red. 

XLI. 

There he continued in this carefull 

plight. 
Wretchedly wearing out his youthly 

yeares. 
Through wilfull penury consumed quight, 
That like a pined ghost he soone appeares : 
For other food then that wilde forrest 

beares, 
Ne other drinke there did he ever tast 
Then running water tempred with his 

teares, 
The more his weakened body so to wast, 
That out of all mens knowledge he was 

worne at last. 

XLII. 

For on a day, by fortune as it fell. 
His owne deare Lord Prhice Arthurecame 

that way. 
Seeking adventures where he mote heare 

tell; 
And, as he through the wandring wood 

did stray. 
Having espide this Cabin far away. 
He to it drew, to weet who there did 

wonne; 
Weening therein some holy Hermit lay, 
That did resort of sin full people shonne, 
Or else some woodman shrowded there 

from scorching sunne. 

XLIII. 

Arriving there he found this wretched 

man 
Spending his dales in dolour and despaire. 
And through long fasting woxen pale and 

wan. 
All overgrowen with rude and rugged 

haire; 
That albeit his owne dear Squire he were, 
Yet he hiin knew not, ne aviz'd at all, 
But like strange wight, whom he had 

seene no where, 
Saluting him gan into speach to fall, 
And pitty much his plight, that liv'd like 

outcast thrall. 



But to his speach he aunswered no whit, 
But stood still mute, as if he had beene 

dum, 
Ne signe of sence did shew, ne common 

wit. 
As one with grief e and anguishe overcum. 
And unto everj'^ thing did aunswere mum : 
And ever, when the Prince unto him spake. 
He louted lowly, as did him becum, 
Anfl humble homage did unto him make. 
Midst sorrow shewing joyous semblance 

for his sake. 



At which his uncouth guise and usage 

quaint 
The Prince did wonder much, yet could 

not ghesse 
The cause of that his sorrowfuU con- 
straint ; 
Yet weend, by secret signes of manlinesse 
Which close appeard in that rude 

brutishnesse. 
That he whilome some gentle swaine had 

beene, 
Traind up in feats of arines and knight- 

linesse ; 
Which he observ'd, by that he him had 

seene 
Tr weld his naked sword, and try the 

edges keene. 



And eke by that he saw on every tree, 
How he the name of one engraven had 
Which likly was his liefest love to be. 
From whom he now so sorely was bestad, 
Which was by him Belphebe rightly 

rad. 
Yet who was that Belphebe he ne wist ; 
Yet saw he often how he wexed glad 
When he it heard, and how the ground he 

kist 
Wlierein it written was, and how himselfe 

he blist. 

XLVII. 

Tho, when he long had marked his 

demeanor. 
And saw that all he said and did was 

vaine, 
Ne ought mote make him change his 

wonted tenor, 
Ne ought mote ease or mitigate his paine, 
He left him there in languor to remaine, 
Till time for him should remedy provide, 
And him restore to former grjfce againe : 
Which, for it is too long here to abide, 
I will deferre the end untill another 

tide. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE PAERIE QUEENE. 



337 



CANTO VIII. 

The pentle Squire recovers grace, 
Sclaunder her guests doth staine 

Corttambo chaseth Placidas, 
And is by Arthure slaine. 



Well said the AVisenian, now prov'd 
true by this 

Which to this gentle Squire did happen 
late, 

That the displeasure of the mighty is 

Then death it selt'e more dread and des- 
perate ; 

For naught the same may calme ne miti- 
gate, 

Till time the tempest doe thereof delay 

With sufferaunce soft, which rigour can 
abate, 

And have the sterne remembrance wypt 
away 

Of bitter thoughts, which deepe therein 
infixed lay. 

II, 

Like as it fell to this unhappy boy, 
Whose tender heart the faire Belphebe had 
With one sterne looke so daunted, that 

no joy 
In all his life, which afterwards he lad. 
He ever tasted ; but with penaunce sad 
And pensive sorrow pind and wore away, 
Ne ever laught, ne once shew'd counte- 
nance glad. 
But alwaies wept and wailed night and 

day, 
As blasted bloosme through heat doth 
languish and decay : 



Till on a day, as in his wonted wise 
His doole he made, there chaunst a turtle 

Dove 
To come where he his dolors did devise. 
That likewise late had lost her dearest 

love. 
Which losse her made like passion also 

prove : 
Who, seeing his sad plight, her tender 

heart 
With deare compassion deeply did em- 
move, 
That she gan mone his undeserved smart. 
And with her dolefull accent beare with 
him a part. 

IV. 



Shee sitting by him, 
lay, 



as on grounc^ lie 



Her mournefull notes full piteously did 
frame. 

And thereof made a lamentable lay, 

So sensibly compyld, that in the same 

Him seemed oft he heard his owne right 
name. 

With that he forth would poure so plente- 
ous teares. 

And beat his breast unworthy of such 
blame, 

And knocke his head, and rend his rugged 
heares. 

That could have perst the hearts of Tigres 
and of Beares. 



Thus, long this gentle bird to him did 

use 
Withouten dread of perill to repaire 
Unto his wonne, and with her mournefull 

muse 
Him to recomfort in his greatest care. 
That much did ease his mourning and 

misfare : 
And every day, for guerdon of her song, 
He part of his small feast to her would 

share ; 
That, at the last, of all his woe and wrong 
Companion she became, and so continued 

long. 

VI. 

Upon a day as she him sate beside, 
By chance he certaine miniments forth 

drew. 
Which yet with him as relickes did abide 
Of all the bounty which Belphebe tlirew 
On him, whilst goodly grace she him did 

shew : 
Amongst the rest a Jewell rich he found. 
That was a Rubv of right perfect hew, 
Shap'd like a heart yet bleeding of the 

wound, 
And with a litle golden chaine about it 

bound. 

VII. 

The same he tooke, and with a riband 

new. 
In which his Ladies colours were, did bind 
About the turtles necke, that with the 

vew 
Did greatly solace his engrieved mind. 



338 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV 



All unawares the bird, when she did find 
Her selfe so deckt, her nimble wings dis- 

plaid, 
And flew away as lightly as the wind : 
Which sodaine accident him much dis- 

maid, 
And looking after long did mark which 

way she straid. 



But when as long he looked had in vaine, 
Yet saw her forward still to make her 

flight, 
His weary eie returnd to hira againe, 
Full of discomfort and disquiet plight. 
That both his juell he had lost so light, 
And eke his deare companion of his care. 
But that sweet bird departing flew forth- 
right, 
Through the wide region of the wastfull 

aire, 
Untill she came where wonned his Bel- 
phebe faire. 



There found she her (as then it did be- 
tide) 
Sitting in covert shade of arbors sweet, 
After late wearie toile which she had tride 
In salvage chase, to rest as seem'd her 

meet. 
There she alighting fell before her feet. 
And gan to her her mournfull plaint to 

make. 
As was her wont, thinking to let her weet 
The great tormenting griefe that for her 

sake 
Her gentle Squire through her displeasure 
did pertake. 

X. 

She, her beholding with attentive eye, 
At length did marke about her purple 

brest 
Tliat precious juell, which she formerly 
Had knowne right well, with colourd rib- 
bands drest: 
Therewith she i:t)se in hast, and her ad- 

drest 
With ready hand it to have reft away ; 
But the swift bird obayd not her behest. 
But swarv'd aside, and there againe did 

stay: 
She follow'd her, and thought againe it to 
assay. 

XI, 

And ever, when she nigh approcht, the 
Dove 
Would flit a litle forward, and then stay 
Till she drew neare, and then againe re- 
move; 



So tempting her still to persue the pray, 
And still from her escaping soft away : 
Till that at length into that forrest wide 
She drew her far, and led with slow delay. 
In th' end she her unto that place did 

guide. 
Whereas that wofull man in languor did 

abide. 

XII. 

Eftsoones she flew unto his fearelesse 

hand. 
And there a piteous ditty new deviz'd. 
As if she would have made her understand 
His sorrowes cause, to be of her despis'd : 
Whom when she saw in wretched weedes 

disguiz'd, 
With heary glib deform'd and meigerface. 
Like ghost late risen from his grave 

agryz'd. 
She knew him not, but pittied much his 

case, 
And wisht it were in her to doe him any 
grace. 

XIII. 

He her beholding at her feet downe fell, 
And kist the ground on which her sole did 

tread, 
And washt the same with water which 

did well 
From his moist eies, and like two streames 

procead ; 
Yet spake no word, whereby she might 

aread 
What mister wight he was, or what he 

ment; 
But, as one daunted with her presence 

dread, 
Onely few ruefull lookes unto her sent. 
As messengers of his true meaning and 

intent. 

XIV. 

Yet nathemore his meaning she ared, 
But wondred much at his so selcouth 

case ; 
And by his persons secret seemly bed 
Well weend that he had beene some man 

of place, 
Before misfortune did his hew deface ; 
That being mov'd with ruth she thus 

bespake : 
'Ah! wofull man, what heavens hard 

disgrace. 
Or Avrath of cruell wight on thee ywrake, 
Or selfe-disliked life, doth thee thus 

wretched make? 

XV. 

' If heaven, then none may it redresse 
or blame, 
Sith to hispowre we all aro subject borne: 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



339 



If wrathfull wight, tlien fowle rebuke and 

shame 
Be theirs that have so cruell thee forlorne ! 
But if through inward grief e or wilfull 

scorue 
Of life it be, then better doe advise : 
For he, whose daies in wilfull woe are 

worne, 
The grace of his Creator doth despise. 
That will not use his gifts for thanklesse 

nigardise.' 

XVI. 

When so he heard her say, eftsoones he 

brake, 
His sodaine silence which he long had pent, 
And, sighing inly deepe, her thus bespake : 
' Then have they all themselves against 

me bent: 
For heaven, first author of my lauguish- 

ment. 
Envying my too great felicity. 
Did closely with a cruell one consent 
To cloud my daies in dolefull misery. 
And make me loath this life, still longing 

for to die. 

XVII. 

' Ne any but your selfe, O dearest dred. 
Hath done this wrong, to wreake on 

worthlesse wight 
Your high displesure, through misdeem- 
ing bred : 
That, wlien your pleasure is to deeme 

aright, 
Ye may redresse, and me restore to light ! ' 
Which soiy words her mightie hart did 

mate 
With mild regard to see his ruefull plight. 
That her inburning wrath she gan abate, 
And him receiv'd againe to former favours 
state. 



In which he long time afterwards did 
lead 

An happie life with grace and good accord, 

Fearlesse of fortunes chaunge or envies 
dread, 

And eke all mindlesse of his owne deare 
Lord 

The noble Prince, who never heard one 
word 

Of tydings what did unto him betide, 

Or what good fortune did to him afford ; 

But through the endlesse world did wan- 
der wide. 

Him seeking evermore, yet no where him 
descride. 

XIX. 

Till on a day, as through that wood he 
rode, 



He chaunst to come where those two 

Ladies late, 
iEmylia and Amoret, abode. 
Both in full sad and sorrowfull estate : 
The one right feeble through the evill rate 
Of food which in her duresse she had 

found ; 
The other almost dead and desperate 
Through her late hurts, and through that 

haplesse wound 
With which the Squire, in her defence, her 

sore astouiid. 



Whom when the Prince beheld, he gan 

to rew 
The evill case in which those Ladies lay ; 
But most was moved at the piteous vew, 
Of Amoret, so neare unto decay. 
That her great daunger did him much 

dismay. 
Eftsoones that pretious liquour forth he 

drew. 
Which he in store about him kept alway, 
And with few drops thereof did softly dew, 
Her woimds, that unto strength restor'd 

her soone anew. 



Tho, when thej" both recovered were 

riglrt well. 
He gan of them inquire, what evill guide 
Them thether brought, and how their 

harmes befell ? 
To whom they told all that did them 

betide. 
And how from thraldome vile they were 

untide, 
Of that same wicked Carle, by Virgins 

bond ; 
Whose bloudie corse they shew'd him 

there beside, 
And eke his cave in which they both were 

bond : 
At which he wondred much when all 

those signes he fond. 



And evermore he greatly did desire 
To know what Virgin did them thence 

unbind. 
And oft of them did earnestly inquire, 
Where was her won, and how he mote her 

find. 
But, when as nought according to his mind 
He could out-learne, he them from ground 

did reare. 
No service lothsome to a gentle kind, 
And on his warlike beast them both did 

beare, 



340 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[kooi 



Himselfe by them on foot to succour them 
from feare. 

XXIII. 

So when that forrest they had passed 

well, 
A litle cotage farre away they spide, 
To which they drew ere night upon them 

fell ; 
And entring in found none therein abide, 
But one old woman sitting there beside 
Upon the ground in ragged rude attyre, 
With filthy lockes about her scattered 

wide, 
Gnawing her nayles for felnesse and for 

yre, 
And there out sucking venime to her parts 

entyre. 

XXIV. 

A foule and loathly creature sure in 

sight, 
And in conditions to be loath'd no lesse ; 
For she was stuft with rancour and 

despight 
Up to the throat, that oft with bitternesse 
It forth would breake, and gush in great 

excesse, 
Pouring out streames of poyson and of gall 
Gainst all that truth or vertue doe pro- 

fesse ; 
Whom she with leasings lewdly did miscall 
And wickedly backbite: Her name men 

Sclaunder call. 

XXV. 

Her nature is all goodnesse to abuse, 
And causelesse crimes continually to frame, 
With which she guiltlesse persons may 

accuse. 
And steale away the crowne of their good 

name : 
Ne ever Knight so bold, ne ever Dame 
So chast and loyall liv'd, but she would 

strive 
With forged cause them falsely to defame : 
Ne ever thing so well was doen alive, 
But she with blame would blot, and of 

due praise deprive. 

XXVI. 

Her words were not, as common words 

are ment, 
T' expresse the meaning of the inward 

mind, 
But noysome breath, and poysnous spirit 

sent 
From inward parts, with caucred malice 

lind, 
And breathed forth with blast of bitter 

wind ; 



Which passing through the eares would 

pierce tlie hart, 
And wound the soule it selfe with griefe 

unkind ; 
For, like the stings of aspes that kill with 

smart, 
Her spightiull words did pricke and 
wound the inner part. 



Such was that Hag, unmeet to host such 
guests, 

Whom greatest Princes court would wel- 
come fayne ; 

But neede, that answers not to all re- 
quests, 

Bad them not looke for better entertayne ; 

And eke that age despysed nicenesse 
vaine, 

Enur'd to hardnesse and to homely fare, 

Which them to warlike discipline did 
trayne, 

And manly limbs endur'd with litle care 

Against all hard mishaps and fortuuelesse 
misfare. 

XXVIII. 

Then all that evening (welcommed with 
cold 

And chearelesse hunger) they together 
spent ; 

Yet found no fault, but that the Hag did 
scold 

And rayle at them with grudgefuU dis- 
content, 

For lodging there without her owne con- 
sent: 

Yet they endured all with patience milde. 

And unto rest themselves all onely lent, 

Regardlesse of that queaue so base and 
vilde 

To be unjustly blamd, and bitterly re vilde. 



Here, well I weene, when as these rimes 

be red 
With misregard, that some rash-witted 

wight, 
Whose looser thought will lightly be mis- 
led, 
These gentle Ladies will misdeeme too 

light 
For thus conversing with this noble 

Knight ; 
Sith now of dayes such temperance is rare 
And hard to fiude, that heat of youthfull 

spright 
For ought will from his greedie pleasure 

spare : 
More hard for hungry steed t' abstains 

from pleasant lare. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



341 



But antique age, yet in the in fane ie 
Of time, did live then like an innocent, 
In simple truth and blamelesse chastitie, 
Ne then of guile had made experiment ; 
But, void of vile and treacherous intent, 
Held vertue for it selfe in soveraine awe : 
Then loyall love had royall regiment, 
And each unto his lust did make a lawe, 
From all forbidden things his liking to 
withdraw. 

XXXI. 

The Lyon there did with the Lambe 

consort, 
And eke the Dove sate by the Faulcons 

side; 
Ne each of other feared fraud or tort, 
But did in safe securitie abide, 
Withouten perill of the stronger pride : 
But when the world woxe old, it woxe 

warre old, 
(Whereof it hight) and, having shortly 

tride 
The traines of wit, in wickednesse woxe 

bold, 
And dared of all sinnes the secrets to 

unfold. 

XXXII. 

Then beautie, which was made to rep- 
resent 
The great Creatours owne resemblance 

bright, 
Unto abuse of lawlesse lust was lent, 
And made the baite of bestiall delight : 
Then faire grew foule, and foule grew 

faire in sight; 
And that, which wont to vanquish God 

and man, 
Was made the vassall of the victors 

might ; 
Then did her glorious flowre wex dead 

and wan, 
Despisd and troden downe of all that 

over-ran. 

XXXIII. 

And now it is so utterly decayd. 
That any bud thereof doth scarse remaine, 
But-if few plants, preserv'd through heav- 
enly ayd, 
In Princes Court doe hap to sprout againe, 
Dew'd with her drops of bountie Sove- 
raine, 
Which from that goodly glorious fiowre 

proceed, 
Sprung of the auncient stocke of Princes 

straine. 
Now th'onely remnant of that royall breed, 
Whose noble kind at first was sure of 
heavenly seed. 



XXXIV. 

Tho, soone as day discovered heavens 

face 
To sinfull men with darknes overdight, 
This gentle crew gan from their eye-lids 

chace 
The drowzie humour of the dampish night. 
And did themselves unto their journey 

dight. 
So forth they yode, and forward softly 

paced, 
That them to view had bene an imcouth 

sight , 
How all the way the Prince on footpace 

traced, 
The Ladies both on horse, together fast 

embraced. 

XXXV. 

Soone as they thence departed were 

afore. 
That shamefuU Hag, the slaunder of her 

sexe, 
Them follow 'd fast, and them reviled sore. 
Him calling theefe, them whores; that 

much did vexe 
His noble hart : thereto she did annexe 
False crimes and facts, such as they never 

ment. 
That those two Ladies much asham'd did 

wexe : 
The more did she pursue her lewd intent, 
And rayl'd and rag'd, till she had all her 

poyson spent. 

xxxvi. 

At last wdien they were passed out of 

sight. 
Yet she did not her spightfull speach for- 

beare, 
But after them did barke, and still back- 
bite. 
Though there were none her hatefull 

words to heare. 
Like as a curre doth felly bite and teare 
The stone which passed straunger at him 

threw : 
So she, them seeing past the reach of eare. 
Against the stones and trees did rayle 

anew, 
Till she had duld the sting which in 

her tongs end grew. 

XXXVII. 

They passing forth kept on their readie 

way. 
With easie steps so soft as foot could 

stryde. 
Both for great feeblesse, which did oft 

assay 
Faire Amoret that scarcely she could ryde, 



342 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Aud eke through heavie armes which sore 

annoyd 
The Prince on foot, not wonted so to fare ; 
Whose steadie hand was faine his steede 

to guyde, 
And all the way from trotting hard to 

spare ; 
So was his toyle the more, the more that 

was his care. 



At length they spide where towards 
them with speed 
A Squire came gallopping, as he would 

die, 
Bearing a litle Dwarfe before his steed, 
That all the way full loud for aide did crie, 
That seem'd his shrikes M'ould rend the 

brasen skie : 
AVhom after did a mightie man pursew, 
Ryding upon a Dromedare on hie, 
Of stature huge, and horrible of hew, 
That would have maz'd a man his dread- 
full face to vew : 



For from his fearefull eyes two fierie 

beames. 
More sharpe then points of needles, did 

proceede. 
Shooting forth farre away two flaming 

streames. 
Full of sad powre, that poysnous bale did 

breede 
To all that on him lookt without good 

heed, 
And secretly his enemies did slay: 
Like as the Basiliske, of serpents seede. 
From powrefull eyes close venim doth 

couvay 
Into the lookers hart, and killeth farre 

away. 

XL. 

He all the way did rage at that same 

Squire, 
And after him full many threatnings 

threw, 
With curses vaine in his avengefull ire ; 
But none of them (so fast away he flew) 
Him overtooke before he came in vew : 
Where when he saw the Prince in armour 

bright. 
He cald to him aloud his case to rew, 
And rescue him, through succour of his 

might. 
From that his cruell foe that him pursewd 

in sight. 

XLI. 

Eftsoones the Prince tooke downe those 
Ladies twaine 



From loftie steede, and mounting in their 

stead 
Came to that Squire, yet trembling every 

vaine ; 
Of whom he gan enquire his cause of 

dread : 
Who as he gan the same to him aread, 
Loe ! hard behind his backe his foe was 

prest, 
AVith dreadfull weapon aymed at his head. 
That unto death had doen him unredrest, 
Had not the noble Prince his readie stroke 

represt : 

XLII. 

Who, thrusting boldly twixt him and 

the blow. 
The burden of the deadly brunt did beare 
Upon liis shield, which lightly he did 

throw 
Over his head before the harme came 

neare : 
Nathlesse it fell with so despiteous dreare 
And heavie sway, that hard unto his 

crowne 
The shield it drove, and did the covering 

reare : 
Therewith both Squire and dwarfe did 

tomble downe 
Unto the earth, and lay long while in 

senselesse swowne. 

XLIII. 

Whereat the Prince full wrath his strong 

right hand 
In full avengement heaved up on hie, 
And stroke the Pagan with his steely 

brand 
So sore, that to his saddle-bow thereby 
He bowed low, and so a while did lie : 
And, sure, had not his massie yron mace 
Betwixt him and his hurt bene happily, 
It would have cleft him to the girding 

place ; 
Yet, as it was, it did astonish him long 

space. 

XLIV. 

But, when he to himselfe returnd 
againe, 

All full of rage he gan to curse and sweare. 

And vow by Mahoune that he should be 
slaine. 

With that his murdrous mace he up did 
reare, 

That seemed nought the souse thereof 
could beare. 

And therewith smote at him with all hi8 
might ; 

But, ere that it to him approched neare 

The royall child with readie quicke fore- 
sight 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



343 



Did shun the proofe thereof, and it 
avoyded light. 

XLV. 

But, ere his hand he could recure againe 

To ward his bodie from the balefull 
stound, 

He smote at him with all his might and 
maiue, 

So furiously that, ere he wist, he found 

His head before him tombling on the 
ground ; 

The whiles his babling tongue did yet 
blaspheme 

And curse his God that did him so con- 
found : 

The whiles his life ran foorth in bloudie 
stream e, 

His soule descended downe into the Sty- 
gian reame. 

XLVI. 

Which when that Squire beheld, he 

woxe full glad 
To see his foe breath out his spriglit in 

vaine : 
But that same dwarfe right sorie seem'd 

and sad, 
And howld aloud to see his Lord there 

slaine, 
And rent his haire and scratcht his face 

for paine. 
Then gan the Prince at leasure to inquire 
Of all the accident there hapned plahie. 
And what he was whose eyes did flame 

with fire ; 
All which was thus to him declared by 

that Squire. 



'This raightie man,' (quoth he) 'whom 

you haA^e slaine, 
Of an huge Geauntesse whylome was 

bred. 
And by his strength rule to himselfe did 

gaine 
Of many Nations into thraldome led, 
And mightie kiugdomes of his force adred ; 
Whom yet he conquer'd not by bloudie 

fight, 
Ne hostes of men with banners brode 

dispred. 
But by the powre of his infectious sight. 
With which he killed all that came within 

his might. 



' Ne was he ever vanquished afore, 
But ever vanquisht all with whom he 
fought ; 



Ne was there nuin so strong, but he 

doAvne bore ; 
Ne woman yet so faire, but he her brought 
Unto his bay, and captived her thought: 
For most of strength and beautie his de- 
sire 
Was spoyle to make, and wast them unto 

nought, 
By casting secret tiakes of lustfull fire 
From his false eyes into their harts and 
parts entire. 

XLIX. 

' Therefore Corfiambo was he cald 

aright. 
Though namelesse there his bodie now 

doth lie ; 
Yet hath he left one daughter that is bight 
The faire Poeana, who seemes outwardly 
So faire as ever yet saw living eie ; 
And were her vertue like her beautie 

bright. 
She were as faire as any under skie : 
But ah ! she given is to vaine delight, 
And eke too loose of life, and eke of love 

too light. 

L. 

' So, as it fell, there was a gentle Squire 
That lov'd a Ladie of high parentage ; 
But, for his meane degree might not aspire 
To match so high, her friends with coun- 

sell sage 
Dissuaded her from such a disparage : 
But she, whose hart to love was wholly 

lent. 
Out of his hands could not redeeme her 

gage, 
But, firmely following her first intent, 
Resolv'd with him to wend, gainst all her 

friends consent. 



' So twixt themselves they pointed time 
and place : 
To which when he according did repaire. 
An hard mishap and disaventrous case 
Himchaunst: instead of his ^mylia faire. 
This Gyauts sonne, that lies there on the 

laire 
An headlesse heape, him unawares there 

caught ; 
And all dismayd through mercilesse de- 
spair e 
Him wretched thrall unto his dongeon 

brought, 
Whereheremaines,of all nnsuccour'd and 
unsought. 

LII. 

' This Gyants daughter came upon a day 
Unto the prison, in her joyous glee, 



344 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



To view the tlirals which there in bondage 
lay: 

Amongst the rest she chaunced there to 
see 

Tliis lovely swaine, the Squire of low de- 
gree ; 

To whom she did her liking lightly cast, 

And wooed him her paramour to bee : 

From day to day she woo'd and prayd 
him fast, 

And for his love him promist libertie at 
last. 



' He, though afifide unto a former love, 
To whom liis faith he firmely ment to hold, 
Yet seeing not how thence he mote remove, 
But by that meanes which fortune did un- 
fold, 
Hergraunted love, but with affection cold, 
To win her grace his libertie to get : 
Yet she him still detaines in captive hold, 
Fearing, least if she should him freely 

set. 
He would her shortly leave, and former 
love forget. 



' Yet so much favour she to him hath 

hight 
Above the rest, that he sometimes may 

space 
And walke about her gardens of delight. 
Having a keeper still with him in place; 
Which keeper is this Dwarfe, her dearling 

base, 
To whom the keyes of every prison dore 
By her committed be, of speciall grace, 
And at his will may whom he list restore, 
And whom he list reserve to be afflicted 

more. 

LV. 

' Whereof when tydings came unto mine 
eare. 
Full inly sorie, for the fervent zeale 
Which I to him as to my soule did beare, 
I thether went ; where I did long conceale 
My selfe, till that the Dwarfe did me re- 

veale, 
And told his Dame her Squire of low de- 
gree 
Did secretly out of her prison steale ; 
For me he did mistake that Squire to 

bee. 
For never two so like did living creature 
see. 

LVI. 

' Then was I taken and before her 
brought. 
Who, through the likenesse of my outward 
hew, 



Being likewise beguiled in her thought, 
Gan blame me much for being so untrew 
To seeke by flight her felloAvship t' eschew. 
That lov'd me deare, as dearest thing 

alive. 
Thence she commaunded me to prison 

new; 
Whereof I glad did not gaine say nor 

strive. 
But suffred that same Dwarfe me to her 

dongeon drive. 



' There did I finde mine onely faithfuU 

frend 
In heavy plight and sad perplexitie ; 
Whereof I sorie, yet myselfe did bend 
Him to recomfort with my companie. 
But him the more agreev'd I found 

thereby : 
For all his joy, he said, in that distresse 
Was mine and his -3i]mylias libertie. 
^mylia well he lov'd, as I mote ghesse. 
Yet greater love to me then her he did 

prof esse. 

LVIII. 

* But I with better reason him aviz'd, 
And shew'd him how, through error and 

misthought 
Of our like persons, eath to be disguiz'd. 
Or his exchange or freedom might be 

wu'onght. 
Whereto full loth was he, ne would for 

ought 
Consent that I, who stood all fearelesse 

free, 
Should wilfully be into thraldoms 

brought, 
Till fortune did perforce it so decree: 
Yet, over-ruld at last, he did to me agree. 



' The morrow next, about the wonted 
howre, 
The Dwarfe cald at the doore of Amyas 
To come forthwith unto his Ladies bowre: 
Insteed of whom forth came I, Placidas, 
And undiscerned forth with him did pas- 
There with great joyance and with glad- 
some glee 
Of faire Pceana I received was. 
And oft imbrast, as if that I were hee, 
And with kind words accoyd, vowing 
great love to mee. 



' Wliich I, that was not bent to former 
love 
As was my friend that had her long ref us'd, 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



345 



Did well accept, as well it did behove, 
Aud to the pi'eseiit nee<le it wisely usd. 
INIy former harduesse first I faire excusd ; 
Aiul after promist large amends to make. 
With such smooth termes her error I 

abusd 
To my frieuds good more theu for mine 

owne sake, 
For whose sole libertie I love and life did 

stake. 

LXI. 

' Thenceforth I found more favour at 

her hand, 
That to her Dwarfe, which had me in his 

charge, 
She bad to lighten my too heavie band. 
And graunt more scope to me to walke at 

large. 
So on aniay, as by the flowrie marge 
Of a fresh streame I with that Elfe did 

play, 
Finding no meanes how I might us en- 
large, 
But if that Dwarfe I could with me con- 

vay, 
I lightly snatcht him up and witli me bore 

away. 

LXil. 

' Thereat he shriekt aloud, that with 

his cry 
The Tyrant selfe came forth with yelling 

bray, 
And me pursew'd ; but nathemore would I 
Forgoe the purchase of my gotten pray. 
But have perforce him hether brought 

away.' 



Thus as they talked, loe! where nigh at 

hand 
Those Ladies two, yet doubtluU through 

disuuiy. 
In presence came, desirous t' understand 
Tydings of all which there had hapned on 

the land. 

LXIII. 

Where soone as sad jEmylia did espie 
Her captive lovers friend, young Placidas, 
All miudlesse of her wonted modestie 
She to him ran, and him with streight 

em bras 
Enfolding, said ; ' And lives yet Amyas ? ' 
' He lives,' (quoth he) ' aud his ^Emylia 

loves.' 
' Then lesse,' (said she) ' by all the woe I 

pas, 
With which my weaker patience fortune 

proves : 
But what mishap thus long him fro my 

selfe removes? ' 

LXIV. 

Then gan he all this storie to renew, 
And tell the course of his captivitie, 
That her deare hart full deepely made to 

rew. 
And sigh full sore to heare the miserie 
In which so long he merci lesse did lie. 
Then, after many teares and sorrowes 

spent, 
She deare besought the Prince of remedie ; 
Who thereto did with readie will consent, 
And well perform'd ; as shall appeare by 

his event. 



CANTO IX. 

The Squire of low degree, releast, 

^mylia takes to wife ; 
Britomart figbtes with many Knights 

Prince Arthur stints their strife. 



Hard is the doubt, and difiicult to 
deeme. 
When all three kinds of love together 

meet 
And doe dispart the hart with powre ex- 
treme, 
Whether shall weigh the balance downe ; 

to weet. 
The deare affection unto kindred sweet. 
Or raging fire of love to womankind. 
Or zeale of friends corabynd with vertues 

meet : 
But of them all the band of vertuous mind. 
Me seeraes, the gentle hart should most 
assured bind. 



For naturall affection soone doth cesse, 
And quenched is with Cupids greater 

flame : 
But faithfull friendship doth them both 

suppresse. 
And them with maystring discipline doth 

tame. 
Through thoughts aspyring to eternall 

fame : 
For as the soule doth rule the earthly 

masse, 
And all the service of the bodie frame. 
So love of soule doth love of bodie passe. 
No lesse then perfect gold surmounts the 

meanest brasse. 



346 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



All which who list by try all to assay 
Shall in this storie tiud approved plaiue ; 
la which these Squires true frieudship 

more did sway 
Then either care of parents could refraine, 
Or love of fairest Ladle could constraiue; 
For though Parana were as faireas morne, 
Yet did "this trustie squire with proud 

disdaine 
For his friends sake her offred favours 

scorne, 
And she her selfe her syre of whom she 

was y borne. 

IV. 

Now, after that Prince Arthur graunted 

had 
To yeeld strong succour to that gentle 

swayne, 
Who now long time had lyen in prison 

sad ; 
He gan advise how best he mote darrayne 
That enterprize for greatest glories gay ne. 
That headlesse tyrants tronke he reard 

from ground, 
And, having ympt the head to it agayne, 
Upon his usuall beast it firmely bound, 
And made it so to ride as it alive was 

found. 

V. 

Then did he take that chaced Squire, 
and layd 

Before the ryder, as he captive were, 

And made his Dwarfe, though with un- 
willing ayd, 

To guide the beast that did his maister 
beare. 

Till to his castle they approched neare ; 

Whom when the watch, that kept con- 
tin uall ward, 

Saw comming home, all voide of doubtf ull 
feare. 

He, running downe, the gate to him un- 
bard; 

Whom straight the Prince ensuing in to- 
gether far'd. 



There did he find in her delitious boure 
The faire Poeana playing on a Rote 
Complayning of her cruell Paramoure, 
And singing all her sorrow to the note, 
As she had learned readily by rote ; 
That with the sweetnesse of her rare 

delight 
The Prince halfe rapt began on her to 

dote; 
Till better him bethinking of the right, 
He her unwares attacht, and captive held 

by might. 



VII. 

Whence being forth produe'd, when she 

perceived 
Her owne deare sire, she cald to him for 

aide; 
But when of him no aunswere she re- 
ceived, 
But saw him sencelesse by the Squire up- 

staide, 
She weened well that then she was be- 

traide : 
Then gan she loudly cry, and weepe, and 

waile, 
And that same Squire of treason to up- 

braide ; 
But all in vaine: her plaints might not 

prevaile, 
Ne none there was to reskue her, ne none 

to baile. 

VIII. 

Then tooke he that same Dwarfs, and 

him compeld 
To open unto him the prison dore. 
And forth to bring those thrais which 

there he held. 
Thence f»rth were brought to him above 

a score 
Of Knights and Squires to him unknowne 

afore : 
All which he did from bitter bondage free. 
And unto former liberty restore. 
Amongst the rest that Squire of low 

degree 
Came forth full weake and wan, not like 

him selfe to bee. 



Whom soone as faire ^mylia beheld 
And Placidas, they both unto him ran. 
And him embracing fast betwixt them 

held, 
Striving to comfort him all that they 

can. 
And kissing oft his visage pale and wan : 
That faire Poeana, them beholding both, 
Gan both envy, and bitterly to ban ; 
Through jealous passion weeping inly 

wroth. 
To see the sight perforce that both her 

eyes were loth. 



But when awhile they had together 

beene, 
And diversly conferred of their case, 
She, though full oft she both of them had 

scene 
Asunder, yet not ever in one place. 
Began to doubt, when she them saw 

embrace, 



CANTO IX,] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



347 



Which was the captive Squire she lov'd 

so deare, 
Deceived through great likenesse of tlieir 

face: 
For they so like in person did appeare, 
That she uneath discerned whether 

whether weare. 

XI. 

And eke the Prince, when as he them 

avized, 
Their like resemblauuce much admired 

there, 
And mazd how nature had so well 

disguized 
Her worke, and counterfet her selfe so 

nere, 
As if that by one patterne, scene some- 
where, 
She had them made a paragone to be. 
Or whether it through skill or errour 

were. 
Thus gazing long at them much wondred 

he; 
So did the other Knights and Squires 

which them did see. 

XII. 

Then gan they ransacke that same Castle 

strong, 
In which he found great store of hoorded 

threasure, 
The which that tyrant gathered had by 

wrong 
And tortious powre, without respect or 

measure: 
Upon all which the Briton Prince made 

seasure, 
And afterwards continu'd there a while 
To rest him selfe, and solace in soft 

pleasure 
Those weaker Ladies after weary toile ; 
To whom he did divide part of his pur- 

chast spoile. 

XIII. 

And, for more joy, that captive Lady 
faire. 
The faire Posana, he enlarged free. 
And by the rest did set in sumptuous chaire 
To feast and frollicke ; nathemore would 

she 
Shew gladsome countenaunce nor pleas- 
aunt glee ; 
But grieved was for losse both of her sire, 
And eke of Lordship with both land and 

fee: 
But most she touched was with griefe 

entire 
For losse of her new love, the hope of her 
desire. 



But her the Prince, through his well 

wonted grace, 
To better termesof myldnesse did entreat 
From that fowle rudenesse which did her 

deface ; 
And that same bitter corsive, which did 

eat 
Her tender heart and made refraine from 

meat, 
He with good thewes and speaches well 

applyde 
Did mollilie, and calme her raging heat: 
For though she were most faire, and 

goodly dyde, 
Yet she it all did mar with cruelty and 

pride. 

XV. 

And, for to shut up all in friendly love, 
Sith love was first the ground of all her 

griefe, 
That trusty Squire he wisely well did 

move 
Not to despise that dame which lov'd him 

liefe. 
Till he had made of her some better priefe ; 
But to accept her to his wedded wife : 
Thereto he offred for to make him cliiefe 
Of all her land and lordship during life. 
He yeelded, and her tooke; so stinted all 

their strife. 



From that day forth in peace and joyous 

blis 
Theyliv'd together long without debate; 
Ne private jarre, ne spite of enemis, 
Could shake the safe assuraunce of their 

state : 
And she, whom Nature did so faire create 
That she mote match the fairest of her 

dales, 
Yet with lewd loves and lust intemperate 
Had it defaste, thenceforth reformd her 

waies. 
That all men much admyrde her change, 

and spake her praise. 



Thus when the Prince had perfectly 

compylde, 
These paires of friends in jieace and setled 

rest. 
Him selfe, whose minde did travell as 

with cliylde 
Of his old love conceav'd in secret brest. 
Resolved to pursue his former quest ; 
And, taking leave of all, with him did 

beare 
Faire Amoret, whom Fortune by bequest 



348 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Had left in his protection whileare, 
Exchanged out of one into another feare. 



Feare of her safety did her not con- 

straiue ; 
For well she wist now in a mighty hond 
Her person, late in perill, did remaine, 
Who able was all daungers to withstond : 
But now in feare of shame she more did 

stond, 
Seeing her selfe all soly succourlesse, 
Left in the victors powre, like vassall 

bond , 
Whose will her weakenesse could no way 

represse, 
In case his burning lust should breake into 

excesse. 

XIX. 

But cause of feare, sure, had she none 

at all 
Of him, who goodly learned had of yore 
The course of loose affection to forstall. 
And lawlesse lust to rule with reasons 

lore; 
That all the while he by his side her bore. 
She was as safe as in a Sanctuary. 
Thus many miles they two together wore. 
To seeke their loves dispersed diversly, 
Yet neither showed to other their hearts 

privity. 

XX. 

At length they came whereas a troupe 
of Knights 

They saw " together skirmishing, as 
seemed : 

Sixe they were all, all full of fell despight. 

But foure of them the battell best be- 
seemed, 

That which of them was best mote not be 
deemed. 

These foure were they from whom false 
Florimel 

By Braggadochio lately was redeemed ; 

To weet, sterneDruon, and lewd Claribell, 

Love-lavish Blandamour, and lustfull 
Paridell. 

XXI. 

Druons delight was all in single life, 
And unto Ladies love would' lend no 

leasure : 
The more was Claribell enraged rife 
With fervent flames, and loved out of 

measure : 
So eke lov'd Blandamour, but yet at 

pleasure 
Would change his liking, and newLemans 

prove ; 
But Paridell of love did make no 

threasure, 



But lusted after all that him did move : 
So diversly these foure disposed were to 
love. 

XXII, 

But those two other, which beside them 

stoode, 
Were Britomart and gentle Scudamour ; 
Who all the while beheld their wrathfull 

moode, 
And wondred at their impacable stoure. 
Whose like they never saw till that same 

houre 
So dreadfuU strokes each did at other 

drive. 
And laid on load with all their might and 

powre. 
As if that every dint the ghost would rive 
Out of their wretched corses, and their 

lives deprive. 

XXIII. 

As when Dan ^olus, in great displeas- 
ure 

For losse of his deare love by Neptune 
hent, 

Sends forth the winds out of his hidden 
tlareasure 

Upon the sea to wreake his fell intent ; 

They breaking forth with rude unruli- 
ment 

From all foure parts of heaven doe rage 
full sore. 

And tosse the deepes, and teare the firma- 
ment, 

And all the worlde confound with wide 
uprore, 

As if instead thereof they Chaos would 
restore. 

XXIV. 

Cause of their discord and so fell debate 
Was for the love of that same snowy maid, 
Whome they had lost in Turneyment of 

late ; 
And, seeking long to weet -which way she 

straid. 
Met here together, where, through lewd 

upbraid e 
Of Ate and Duessa, they fell out ; 
And each one taking part in others aide 
This cruell conflict raised thereabout, 
Whose dangerous successe depended yet 

in doubt: 

XXV. 

For sometimes Paridell and Blandamour 
The better had, and bet the others backer 
Eftsoones the others did the field recoure. 
And on his foes did worke full cruell 

wracke : 
Yet neither would their fiendlike fury 

slacke, 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



349 



But evermore their malice did augmeut; 
Till that uneath they forced were, lor 

lacke 
Of breath, their raging rigoifr to relent, 
And rest themselves for to recover spirits 

spent. 

XXVI. 

Then gan they change their sides, and 

new parts take ; 
For Paridell did take to Druons side, 
For old despight which now forth newly 

brake 
Gainst Blandamour, whom alwaies he 

en vide ; 
And Blandamour to Claribell relide : 
So all afresh gan former tight renew. 
As when two Barkes, this caried with the 

tide. 
That with the wind, contrary courses sew. 
If wind and tide doe change, their courses 

change anew. 

XX VII. 

Thenceforth they much more furiously 

gan fare. 
As if but then the batt ell had begonne ; 
Ne helmets bright ne hawberks strong did 

spare, 
That through the clifts the vermeil bloud 

out sponne, 
And all adowne their riven sides did 

ronne. 
Such mortall malice wonder was to see 
In friends profest, and so great outrage 

donne : 
But sooth is said, and tride in each 

degree. 
Faint friends when they fall out most 

cruell fomen bee. 

XXVIII. 

Thus they long while continued in fight ; 
Till Scudamour and that same Briton 

ma«de 
By fortune in that place did chance to 

light: 
Whom soone as they with wrathfull eie 

bewraide, 
They gan remember of the fowle upbraide, 
The which that Britonesse had to them 

donne 
In that late Turney for the snowy maide ; 
Where she had them both shamefully for- 

donne, 
And eke the famous prize of beauty from 

them wonne. 



Eftsoones all burning with a fresh desire 
Of fell revenge, in their malicious mood 



They from them selves gan turne their 

furious ire, 
And cruell blades, yet steeraing with whot 

bloud. 
Against those two let drive, as they were 

wood : 
Who wondring- much at that so sodaine fit, 
Yet nought dismayd, them stoutly well 

withstood ; 
Ne yeelded foote, ne once abacke did flit, 
But being doubly smitten likewise doubly 

smit. 

XXX. 

The warlike Dame was on her part 

assaid 
Of Claribell and Blandamour attone ; 
And Paridell and Druon fiercely laid 
At Scudamour, both his professed fone : 
Foure charged two, and two surcharged 

one; 
Yet did those two them selves so bravely 

beare, 
That th' other litle gained by the lone. 
But with their owne repayed duely weare, 
And usury withall : suchgaine was gotten 

deare. 

XXXI. 

Full oftentimes did Britomart assay 
To speake to them, and some emparlance 

move ; 
But they for nought their cruell hands 

would stay, 
Ne lend an eare to ought that might be- 
hove. 
As when an eager rnastiffe once doth prove 
The last of bloud of some engored beast. 
No words may rate, nor rigour him remove 
From greedy hold of that his blouddy 

feast : 
So litle did they hearken to her sweet be- 
heast. 

XXXII. 

Whom when the Briton Prince a farre 

beheld 
With ods of so unequall match opprest, 
His mighty heart with indignation sweld. 
And inward grudge fild his heroicke brest : 
Eftsoones him selfe he to their aide ad- 

drest, 
And thrusting fierce into the thickest 

preace 
Divided them, how ever loath to rest; 
And would them faine f rom battell to sur- 

ceasse, 
With gentle words perswading them to 

friendly peace. 

XXXIII. 

But they so farre from peace or patience 
were, 



350 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



That all at once at him gan fiercely flie, 
And lay on load, as they him downe would 

beare ; 
Like toastorme which hovers under skie, 
Loug here and there aud round about doth 

stie, 
At length breakes downe in raine, and 

haile and sleet, 
First from one coast, till nought thereof 

be drie, 
And then another, till that likewise fleet ; 
And so from side to side till all the world 

it weet. 

XXXIV. 

But now their forces greatly were de- 
cay d, 
The Prince yet being fresh untoucht 

afore ; 
Who them with speaches milde gan first 

diswade 
From such foule outrage, and them long 

forbore : 
Till seeing them through suflfrance 

hartned more, 
Him selfe he bent their furies to abate, 
And layd at them so sharpely and so sore, 
That shortly them compelled to retrate. 
And being brought in daunger to relent 
too late. 



But now his courage being throughly 

fired. 
He ment to make them know their follies 

prise. 
Had not those two him instantly desired 
T' asswage his wrath, and pardon their 

mesprise : 
At whose request he gan him selfe advise 
To stay his hand, and of a truce to treat 
In milder tearmes, as list them to devise ; 
Mongst which the cause of their so cruell 

heat 
He did them aske, who all that passed gan 
. repeat: 

XXXVI. 

And told at large how that same errant 
Knight, 
To weet faire Britomart, them late had 

foyled 
In open turuey, and by wrongfull fight 
Both of their publicke praise had them 

despoyled. 
And also of their private loves beguyled. 
Of two full hard to read the harder theft : 
But she that wrongfull challenge scone 

assoyled. 
And shew'd tliat she had not that Lady 

reft, 
(As they suppos'd) but her had to her lik- 
ing left. 



XXXVII. 

To whom the Prince thus goodly well 

replied : 
* Certes, sir Knight, ye seemen much to 

blame 
To rip up wrong that battell once hath 

tried ; 
Wherein the honor both of Armes ye 

shame. 
And eke the love of Ladies foule defame ; 
To whom the world this franchise ever 

yeelded, 
That of their loves choise thay might free- 
dom clame, 
And in that right should by all knights be 

shielded : 
Gainst which, me seemes, this war ye 

wrongfully have wielded.' 

XXXVIII. 

' And yet ' (quoth she) ' a greater wrong 

remaines : 
For I thereby my former love have lost ; 
Whom seeking ever since with endlesse 

paines 
Hath me much sorrow and much travell 

cost : 
Aye me, to see that gentle maide so tost ! ' 
But Scudamour, then sighing deepe, thus 

saide : 
' Certes, her losse ought me to sorrow 

most. 
Whose right she is, where ever she be 

straide. 
Through many perils woune, and many 

fortunes waide. 

XXXIX. 

' For from the first that her I love pro- 
test, 
Unto this hours, this present lucklesse 

howre, 
I never joyed happinesse nor rest ; 
But thus turmoild from one to other 

stowre 
I wast my life, and doe my dales devowre 
In wretched anguishe and incessant woe. 
Passing the measure of my feeble powre ; 
That living thus a wretch, and loving so, 
I neither can my love ne yet my life 
forgo.' 

XL. 

Then good Sir Claribell him thus be- 
spake : 
' Now were it not, sir Scudamour, to you 
Dislikefull paine so sad a taske to take, 
Mote we entreat you, sith this gentle crew 
Is now so well accorded all anew, 
That as we ride together on our way, 
Ye will recount to us in order dew 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



351 



All that adventure which ye did assay 
For that faire Ladies love: past perils 
well apay.' 

XLI. 

So gan the rest him likewise to re- 
quire, 
But Britomart did him importune hard 
To take on him that paine : whose great 
desire 



He glad to satisfie, him selfe prepar'd 
To tell through what misfortune he had 

far'd 
In that atchievemeut, as to him befell, 
And all those daungers unto them de- 

elar'd ; 
Which sith they cannot in this Canto well 
Comprised be, I will them in another 

tell. 



CANTO X. 

Scudamour doth his conquest tell 

Of vertuous Amoret : 
Great Venus Temple is describ'd ; 

And lovers life forth set. 



' True he it said, what ever man it 

sayd, 
That love with gall and hony doth 

abound ; 
But if the one be with the other wayd. 
For every dram of hony therein found 
A pound of gall doth over it redound : 
That I too true by triall have approved ; 
For since the day that first with deadly 

wound 
My heart was launcht, and learned to 

have loved, 
I never joyed howre, but still with care 

was moved. 



' And yet such grace is given them from 

above. 
That all the cares and evill which they 

meet 
May nought at all their setled mindes 

remove. 
But seeme, gainst common seuce, to them 

most sweet ; 
As hosting in their martyrdome unmeet. 
So all that ever yet I have endured 
I count as naught, and tread downe under 

feet. 
Since of my love at length I rest assured. 
That to disloyalty she will not be allured. 



' Long were to tell the travell and long 

toile 
Through which this shield of love I late 

have wonne. 
And purchased this peerelesse beauties 

spoile, 
That harder may be ended, then begonne : 
But since ye so desire, your will be donne. 
Then hearke, ye gentle knights and 

Ladies free, 



My hard mishaps that ye may learne to 

shonne ; 
For though sweet love to conquer glorious 

bee. 
Yet is the paine thereof much greater 

then the fee. 



IV. 

* What time the fame of his renowmed 
prise 
Flew first abroad, and all mens eares 



I, having armes then taken, gan avise 
To winne me honour by some noble 

gest. 
And purchase me some place amongst the 

best. 
I boldly thought, (so young mens thoughts 

are bold) 
That this same brave emprize for me did 

rest, 
And that both shield and she whom I 

behold 
Might be my lucky lot ; sith all by lot we 

hold. 

V. 

* So on that hard adventure forth I 

went, 
And to the place of perill shortly came : 
That was a temple faire and auiicient, 
Which of great mother Venus bare the 

name. 
And farre renowmed through exceeding 

fame, 
Much more then that which was in 

Paphos built, 
Or that in Cyprus, both long since this 

same, 
Though all the pillours of the one were 

guilt, 
And all the others pavement were with 

yvory spilt. 



352 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



' And it was seated in an Island strong, 
Abounding all with delices most rare, 
And wall'd by nature gainst invaders 

wrong, 
That uoue mote have accesse, uor in- 

w^ard fare. 
But by one way that passage did prepare. 
It was a bridge ybuilt in goodly wize 
With curious Corbes and pendants graven 

faire, 
And, arched all with porches, did arize 
On stately pillours fram'd after the 

Doricke guize. 

VII. 

' And for defence thereof on th' other 

end 
There reared was a castle faire and strong 
That warded all which in or out did 

wend, 
And flancked both the bridges sides 

along. 
Gainst all that would it faine to force or 

wrong : 
And therein w^onned twenty valiant 

Knights, 
All twenty tride in warres experience 

long ; 
Whose office was against all manner 

wights 
By all meanes to maintaine that castels 

ancient rights. 



' Before that Castle was an open plaine. 

And in the midst thereof a piller placed ; 

On which this shield, of many sought in 
vaine, 

The shield of Love, whose guerdon me 
hath graced. 

Was hangd on high with golden rib- 
bands laced ; 

And in the marble stone was written this, 

With golden letters goodly well enchaced ; 

Blessed the man that loelL can use his 
blis : 

Whose ever be the shield, fair Amorethe 
his. 

IX. 

'AVhich when I red, my heart did inly 

earne, 
And pant with hope of that adventures 

hap: 
Ne stayed further newes thereof to learne, 
But with my speare upon the shield did 

rap. 
That all the castle ringed with the clap. 
Streight forth issewd u Knight all arm'd 

to proofe, 



And bravely mounted to his most mishap: 
Who, staying nought to question from 

aloofe, 
Ran fierce at me that fire giaunst from 

his horses hoofe. 



' Whom boldly I eucountred (as I could) 
And by good fortune shortly him un- 
seated. 
Eftsoones outsprung two more of equal 

mould ; 
But I them both with equall hap defeated. 
So all the twenty I likewise entreated. 
And left them groning there upon the 

plaine : 
Then, preacing to the pillour, I repeated 
The read thereof for guerdon of my paine, 
And taking downe the shield with me did 
it retaiue. 

XI. 

' So forth without impediment I past, 
Till to the Bridges utter gate I came ; 
The which I found sure lockt and chained 

fast. 
I knockt, but no man aunswred me by 

name ; 
I cald, but no man answred to my clame: 
Yet I persever'd still to knocke and call. 
Till at the last I spide within the same 
W here one stood peeping through a crevis 

small, 
To whom I cald aloud, halfe angry there- 
withal!. 

XII. 

* That was to weet the Porter of the 

place. 
Unto whose trust the charge thereof was 

lent: 
His name was Doubt, that had a double 

face, 
Th' one forward looking, th' other backe- 

w^ard bent. 
Therein resembling Janus auncient 
Which hath in charge the ingate of the 

yeare : 
And evermore his eyes about him went, 
As if some proved perill he did feare. 
Or did misdoubt some ill wdiose cause did 

not appeare. 



'On th' one side he, on th' other sate 

Delay, 
Behinde the gate that none her might 

espy; 
Whose manner was all passengers to stay 
And entertaine with her occasions sly : 
Through which some lost great hope 

unheedily, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE OUEENE. 



353 



Which never they recover might agaiue ; 
And others, quite exchxded forth, did ly 
Long languishing therein unpittiedpaine. 
And seeking often eutraunce afterwards 
in vaine. 

XIV. 

' Me when as he had privily espide 
Bearing the shield which I had conquerd 

late, 
He kend it streight and to me opened 

wide. 
So in I past, and streight he closd the 

gate: 
But being in, Delay in close awaite 
Caught hold on me, and thought my steps 

to stay, 
Feigning full many a fond excuse to 

prate, 
And time to steale, the threasure of 

mans day. 
Whose smallest minute lost no riches 

render may. 

XV. 

' But by no meanes my way I would for- 

slow 
For ought that ever she could doe or say ; 
But from my lofty steede dismounting 

low 
Past forth on foote, beholding all the way 
The goodly workes, and stones of rich 

assay. 
Cast into sundry shapes by wondrous 

skill. 
That like on earth no where I recken 

may : 
And underneath, the river rolling still 
With murmure soft, that seem'd to serve 

the workmans will. 



' Thence forth I passed to the second 

gate. 
The Gate of Good Desert, whose goodly 

pride 
And costly frame were long here to relate. 
The same to all stoode alwaies open wide ; 
But in the Porch did evermore abide 
And hideous Giant, dreadfull to behold. 
That stopt the eutraunce with his spacious 

stride, 
And with the terrour of his countenance 

bold 
Full many did affray, that else faine 

enter would. 

XVII. 

' His name was Daunger, dreaded over- 
all, 
Who day and night did watch and duely 
ward 



From fearefull cowards entrance to for- 
stall 

And faiut-heart-fooles, whom shew of 
peri 11 hard 

Could terrifie from Fortunes faire ad- 
ward : 

For oftentimes faint hearts, at first 
espiall 

Of his grim face, were from approaching 
scard ; 

Unworthy they of grace, whom one de- 
niall 

Excludes from fairest hope withouten fur- 
ther triall. 

XVIII. 

' Yet many doughty warriours often 

tride 
In greater perils to be stout and bold, 
Durst not the sternnesse of his looke 

abide ; 
But, soone as they his countenance did 

behold, 
Began to faint, and feele their corage 

cold. 
Agaiue, some other, that in hard assaies 
Were cowards knowne, and litle count 

did hold. 
Either through gifts, or guile, or such like 

waies. 
Crept in by stouping low, or stealing of 

the kaies. 

XIX. 

' But I, though meanest man of many 

inoe. 
Yet much disdaining unto him to lout, 
Or creepe betweene his legs, so in to goe, 
Resolv'd him to assault with manhood 

stout. 
And either beat him in, or drive him out. 
Eftsoones, advauncing that enchauuted 

shield. 
With all my might I gan to lay about : 
Which when he saw, the glaive which he 

did wield 
He gan forthwith t'avale, and way unto 

me yield. 

XX. 

' So, as lentred, I did backeward looke. 
For feare of harme that might lie hidden 

there; 
And loe! his hindparts, whereof heed I 

tooke. 
Much more deformed fearefull, ugly were. 
Then all his former parts did earst appcre : 
For hatred, murther, treason, and de- 

spight. 
With many moe lay in ambushment there, 
Awayting to entrap the warelesse Avight 
Which did not them prevent with vigilant 

foresight. 



354 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV, 



* Thus having past all perill, I was come 
Within the compasse of that Islands 

space ; 
The which did seeme, unto my simple 

doome, 
The onely pleasant and delightfull place 
That ever troden was of footings trace : 
For all that nature by her mother-wit 
Could frame in earth, and forme of sub- 
stance base, 
Was there ; and all that nature did omit. 
Art, playing second natures part, sup- 
plyed it. 

XXII. 

' No tree, that is of count, in greene- 

wood growes, 
From lowest Juniper to Cedar tall. 
No flowre in field, that daintie odour 

throwes. 
And deckes his branch with blossomes over 

all, 
But there was planted, or grew naturall : 
Nor sense of man so coy and curious nice. 
But there mote find to please it selfe 

withall ; 
Nor hart could wish for any queint device, 
But there it present was, and did fraile 

sense entice. 

XXIII. 

' In such luxurious plentie of all pleas- 
ure. 
It seem'd a second paradise to ghesse. 
So lavishly enricht with Natures threas- 

ure. 
That if the happie soules, which doe pos- 

sesse 
Th' Elysian fields and live in lasting 

blesse, 
Should happen this with living eye to see. 
They soone would loath their lesser hap- 

pinesse. 
And wish to life return'd againe to bee. 
That in this joyous place they mote have 
joyance free. 

XXIV. 

' Fresh shadowes, fit to shroud from 
sunny ray ; 

Faire lawnds, to take the sunne in season 
dew ; 

Sweet springs, in which a thousand 
Nymphs did play ; 

Soft rombling brookes, that gentle slom- 
ber drew ; 

High reared mounts, the lands about to 
vew; 

Low looking dales, disloignd from com- 
mon gaze ; 



Delightfull bowres, to solace lovers trew; 
False Labyrinthes, fond runners eyes to 

daze; 
All which by nature made did nature selfe 

amaze. 

XXV. 

' And all without were walkes and 

alleyes dight 
With divers trees eurang'd in even rankes ; 
And here and there were pleasant arbors 

pight. 
And shadie seates, and sundry flo wring 

bankes, 
To sit and rest the walkers wearie 

shank es : 
And therein thousand payres of lovers 

walkt, 
Praysing their god, and yeelding him great 

thankes, 
Ne ever ought but of their true loves talkt, 
Ne ever for rebuke or blame of any balkt. 



* All these together by themselves did 
sport 
Their spotlesse pleasures and sweet loves 

content. j 

But, farre away from these, another sort 
Of lovers lincked in true harts consent, 
Which loved not as these for like intent, 
Butonchast vertue grounded their desire 
Farre from all fraud or fayned blandish- 
ment ; 
Which, in their spirits kindling zealous 

fire, 
Brave thoughts and noble deedes did ever- 
more aspire. 



* Such were great Hercules and Hyllus 

deare 
Trew Jonathan and David trustie tryde 
Stout Theseus and Pirithous his feare 
Pylades and Orestes by his syde ; 
Myld Titus and Gesippus without pryde ; 
Damon and Pythias, whom death could 

not sever : 
All these, and all that ever had bene tyde 
In bands of friendship, there did live for 

ever ; 
Whose lives although decay 'd, yet loves 

decayed never. 

XXVIII. 

' Which when as I, that never tasted 

blis 
Nor happie howre, beheld with gazefuU 

eye, 
I thought there was none other heaven 

then this ; 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



355 



And gan their endlesse happinesse envye, 
That being free from feare and gealosye 
Might fraukely there their loves desire 

possesse ; 
Whilest I, through paines and perlous jeop- 

ardie, 
Was forst to seeke my lifes deare patron- 

nesse : 
Much dearer be the things which come 

througli hard distresse. 

XXIX. 

' Yet all those sights, and all that else I 

saw, 
]\Iight not my steps withhold, but that 

forthright 
Unto that purposd place I did me draw, 
Where as my love was lodged day and 

night. 
The temple of gi-eat Venus, that is hight 
The Queeue of beautie, and of love the 

mother. 
There worshipped of every living wight; 
Whose goodly workmanship farre past all 

other 
That ever were on earth, all were they 

set together. 

XXX. 

' Not that same famous Temple of 

Diane, 
Whose hight all Ephesus did oversee, 
And which all Asia sought with vowes 

prophane. 
One of the worlds seven wonders sayd to 

bee, 
Might match with this by many a degree : 
Nor that which that wise King of Jurie 

framed 
With endlesse cost to be th' Almighties 

see; 
Nor all, that else through all the world is 

named 
To all the heathen Gods, might like to 

this be clamed. 

XXXI. 

' I, much admyring that so goodly frame, 
Uuto the porch approcht which open 

stood ; 
But therein sate an amiable Dame, 
That seem'd to be of very sober mood. 
And in her semblant shew'd great woman- 
hood : 
Strange was her tyre ; for on her head a 

crowne 
She wore, much like unto a Danisk hood, 
Poudred with pearle and stone ; and all 

her gowne 
Enwoven was with gold, that raught full 
low adowne. 



XXXII. 

' On either side of her two young men 

stood. 
Both strongly arm'd, as fearing one an- 
other ; 
Yet were they brethren both of halfe the 

blood. 
Begotten by two fathers of one mother. 
Though of contrarie natures each to other : 
The one of them hight Love, the other 

Hate. 
Hate was the elder, Love the younger 

brother ; 
Yet was the younger stronger in his 

state 
Then th' elder, and him maystred still in 

all debate. 

XXXIII. 

' Nathlesse that Dame so well them 
tempred both. 
That she them forced hand to joyne in 

hand, 
Albe that Hatred was thereto full loth. 
And turn'd liis face away, as he did stand, 
Unwilling to behold that lovely band. 
Yet she was of such grace and vertuous 

might, 
That her commaundment he could not 

withstand. 
But bit his lip for felonous despight. 
And gnasht his yron tuskes at that dis- 
pleasing sight. 

XXXIV. 

' Concord she cleeped was in common 

reed. 
Mother of blessed Peace and Friendship 

trew ; 
They both her twins, both borne of 

heavenly seed. 
And she her selfe likewise divinely grew ; 
The which right well her workes divine 

did sliew : 
For strength and wealth and happinesse 

she lends, 
And strife and warre and anger does sub- 
dew : 
Of litle much, of foes she maketh friends. 
And to aiflicted minds sweet rest and 

quiet sends. 

XXXV. 

' By her the heaven is in his course con- 
tained. 

And all the world in state unmoved 
stands, 

As their Almightie maker first ordained. 

And bound them with inviolable bands ; 

Else would the waters overflow the lauds. 



356 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



And fire devoare the ayre, and heli them 

quight, 
But that she holds them with her blessed 

hands. 
She is the nourse of pleasure and delight, 
And unto Venus grace the gate doth open 

right. 

XXXVI. 

* By her I entring half dismayed was ; 

But she in gentle wise me entertayned, 

And twixt her selfe and Love did let me 
pas; 

But Hatred would my entrance have re- 
stray ned, 

And with his club me threatned to have 
bray ned, 

Had not the Ladie with her powrefull 
speach 

Him from his wicked will unpath re- 
fray ned ; 

And th' other eke his malice did empeach. 

Till I was throughly past the perill of his 
reach. 

XXXVII. 

' Into the inmost Temple thus I came, 
Which fuming all with frankensence I 

found 
And odours rising from the altars flame. 
Upon an hundred marble pillors round 
The roofe up high was reared from the 

ground, 
All deckt with erownes, and chaynes, and 

girlands gay, 
And thousand pretious gifts worth many 

a pound, 
The which sad lovers for their vowes did 

pay; 
And all the ground was strow'd with 

flowres as fresh as May. 

XXXVIII. 

' An hundred Altars round about were 

set. 
All flaming with their sacrifices fire, 
That with the steme thereof the Temple 

swet, 
Which rould in clouds to heaven did aspire, 
And in them bore true lovers vowes 

entire : 
And eke an hundred brasen caudrons 

bright, 
To bath in joy and amorous desire, 
Every of which was to a damzell bight; 
For all the Priests were damzels in soft 

linnen dight. 

XXXIX. 

' Right in the midst the Goddesse selfe 
did stand 
Upon an altar of some costly masse. 



Whose substance was uneath to under- 
stand : 

For neither pl'etious stone, nor durefuU 
brasse. 

Nor shining gold, nor mouldring clay it 
was ; 

But much more rare and pretious to 
esteem e, 

Pure in aspect, and like to christall glasse, 

Yet glasse was not, if one did rightly 
deeme ; 

But, being f aire -and brickie, likest glasse 
did seeme. 

XL. 

' But it in shape and beautie did excell 
All other Ido^es which the heathen adore, 
Farre passing that, which by surpassing 

skill 
Phidias did make in Paphos Isle of yore. 
With which that wretched Greeke, that 

life forlore, 
Did fall in love: yet this much fairer 

shined, 
But covered with a slender veile afore ; 
And both her feete and legs together 

twyned 
Were with a snake, whose head and tail 

were fast combyned. 

XLI. 

' The cause why she was covered with a 

vele 
Was hard to know, for that her Priests 

the same 
From peoples knowledge labour'd to 

concele: 
But sooth it was not sure for womanish 

shame. 
Nor any blemish which the worke mote 

blame ; 
But for, they say, she hath both kinds in 

one. 
Both male and female, both under one 

name : 
She syre and mother is her selfe alone, 
Begets and eke conceives, ne needeth other 

none. 

XLII. 

* And all about her necke and shoulders 

flew 
A flocke of litle loves, and sports, and 

joyes, 
AVith nimble wings of gold and purple 

hew ; 
Whose shapes seera'd not like to terres- 

triall boyes, 
But like to Angels playing heavenly toyes, 
The wliilest their eldest brother was 

away, 
Cupid their eldest brother; he enjoyes 



CANTO X.l 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



357 



The wide kingdome of love with lordly- 
sway, 

And to his law compels all creatures to 
obay. 

XLIII. 

' And all about her altar scattered lay 
Great sorts of lovers piteously complayn- 

iiig, 
Some of their losse, some of their loves 

delay, 
Some of their pride, some paragons dis- 

dayning, 
Some fearing fraud, some fraudulently 

fayniug, 
As every one had cause of good or ill. 
Amongst the rest some one, through Loves 

constrayning 
Tormented sore, could not containe it still. 
But thus brake forth, that all the temple 

it did fill. 

XLIV. 

' " Great Venus ! Queene of beautie and 

of grace, 
The joy of Gods and men, that under skie 
Doest fayrest shine, and most adorne thy 

place ; 
That with thy smyling looke doest pacific 
The raging seas, and makst the stormes 

to flie ; 
Thee, goddesse, thee the winds, the clouds 

doe feare. 
And, when thou spredst thy mantle forth 

on hie, 
The waters play, and pleasant lands 

appear e. 
And heavens laugh, and al the world shews 

joyous cheare. 

XLV. 

' " Then doth the daedale earth throw 

forth to thee 
Out of her fruitfull lapaboundant flowres; 
And then all living wights, soone as they 

see 
The spring breake forth out of his lusty 

bowres, 
They all doe learne to play the Paramours ; 
First doe the merry birds, thy prety 

pages, 
Privily pricked with thy lustfull powres, 
Chirpe loud to thee out of their leavy 

cages, 
And thee their mother call to coole their 

kindly rages. 

XLVI. 

' "Then doe the salvage beasts begin to 
play 
'; Their pleasant friskes, and loath their 
ii wonted food : 



The Lyons rore ; the Tygres loudly bray ; 
The raging Buls rebellow through the 

wood, 
And breaking forth dare tempt tlie deepest 

flood 
To come where thou doest draw them with 

desire. 
So all things else, that nourish vitall blood, 
Soone as with fury thou doest them inspire, 
In generation seeke to quench their inward 

fire. 

XLVII. 

' " So all the world by thee at first was 

made, 
And dayly yet thou doest the same 

repayre ; 
Ne ought on earth that merry is and glad, 
Ne ought on earth that lovely is and fayre, 
But thou the same for pleasure didst 

prepayre : 
Thou art the root of all that joyous is : 
Great God of men and women, queene of 

th' ayre, 
Mother of laughter, and welspring of 

blissp, 
O graunt that of my love at last I may not 

misse ! ' ' 



' So did he say : but I with murmure soft, 
That none might heare the sorrow of my 

hart, 
Yet inly groning deepe and sighing oft. 
Besought her to graunt ease unto my 

smart. 
And to ray wound her gratious help 

impart. 
Whilest thus I spake, behold ! with happy 

eye 
I spyde where at the Idoles feet apart 
A bevie of fayre damzels close did lye, 
Wayting when as the Antheme should be 

sung on bye. 



' The first of them did seeme of ryper 

yeares 
And graver countenance then all the rest ; 
Yet all the rest were eke her equall peares, 
Yet unto her obayed all the best. 
Her name was Womanhood ; that she 

exprest 
By her sad semblant and demeanure wyse : 
For stedfast still her eyes did fixed rest, 
Ne rov'd at randon, after gazers guyse. 
Whose luring baytes oftimes doe heedlesse 

harts entyse. 



And next to her sate goodly Shame- 
fastnesse, 



358 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Ne ever durst her eyes from ground up- 
reare, 

Ne ever ouce did looke up from her desse, 

As if some blame of evill she did feare, 

That in her cheekes made roses oft ap- 
peare : 

And her against sweet Cherefulnesse was 
placed, 

Whose eyes, like twinkling stars in even- 
ing cleare, 

Were deckt with smyles that all sad 
humors chaced, 

And darted forth delights the which her 
goodly graced. 



' And next to her sate sober Modestie, 
Holding her hand upon her gentle hart ; 
And her against sate comely Curtesie, 
That unto every person knew her part ; 
And her before was seated overthwart 
Soft Silence, and submisse Obedience, 
Both linckt together never to dispart ; 
Both gifts of God, not gotten but from 

thence. 
Both g'rlonds of his Saints against their 

foes offence. 



' Thus sate they all around in seemely 

rate: 
And in the midst of them a goodly mayd 
Even in the lap of Womanhood there sate, 
The which was all in lilly white arayd, 
With silver streames amongst the linnen 

stray'd ; 
Like to the Morne, when first her shyuing 

face 
Hath to the gloomy world itselfe be- 

wray'd : 
That same was fayrest Amoret in place, 
Shyning with beauties light and heavenly 

vertues grace. 

LIII. 

* Whom soone as I beheld, my hart gan 

throb 
And wade in doubt what best were to be 

donne ; 
For sacrilege me seem'd the Church to rob. 
And folly seem'd to leave the thing 

undonue 
Which with so sti-ong attempt I had 

begonne. 
Tho, shaking off all doubt and shamefast 

feare 
Which Ladies love, I heard, had never 

wonne 
Mongst men of worth, I to her stepped 

neare, 



And by the lilly hand her labour'd up to 
reare. 

LIV. 

* Thereat that formost matrone me did 

blame. 
And sharpe rebuke for being over bold ; 
Saying, it was to Knight unseemely shame 
Upon a recluse Virgin to lay hold. 
That unto Veims services was sold. 
To whom I thus: "Nay, but it iitteth 

best 
For Cupids man with Venus mayd to hold, 
For ill your goddesse services are drest 
By virgins, and her sacrifices let to rest." 



' With that my shield I forth to her did 

show, 
Which all that while I closely had conceld ; 
On which when Cupid, with his killing 

bow 
And cruell shafts, emblazond she beheld, 
At sight thereof she was with terror queld, 
And said no more : but I, which all that 

while 
The pledge of faith, her hand, engaged 

held. 
Like warie Hyud within the weedie soyle, 
For no intreatie would forgoe so glorious 

spoyle. 

LVI. 

* And evermore upon the Goddesse face 
Mine eye was fixt, for feare of her offence ; 
Whom when I saw with amiable grace 
To laugh at me, and favour my pretence, 
I was emboldned with more confidence ; 
And nought for nicenesse nor for envy 

sparing, 
In presence of them all forth led her 

thence 
All looking on, and like astonisht staring, 
Yet to lay hand on her not one of all them 

daring. 

LVII. 

* She often prayd, and often me be- 

sought, 
Sometime with tender teares to let her 

goe, 
Sometime with witching smyles ; but yet, 

for nought 
That ever she to me could say or doe. 
Could she her wished freedome fro me 

wooe: 
But forth I led her through the Temple 

gate. 
By which I hardly past with much adoe: 
But that same Ladie, which me friended I 

late 
In entrance, did me also friend in my re- 

trate. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



359 



LVIII, 

' No lesse did Daunger threateu me with 

dread, 
Wlieuas he saw me, maugre all his 

powre. 
That glorious spoyle of heautie with me 

lead, 
Then Cerberus, whom Orpheus did re- 

coure 



His Leman from the Stygiau Princes 

boure: 
But evermore my shield did me defend 
Against the storme of every dreadfuU 

stoure : 
Thus safely with my love I thence did 

wend.' 
So ended he his tale, where I this Canto 

end. 



CANTO XL 

Marinells former wound is heald, 

He comes to Proteus hall, 
Where Thames doth the Medway wedd. 

And feasts the Sea-gods all. 



But ah for pittie! that I have thus long 
Left a fayre Ladie languisliing in payne : 
Now well-away ! that I have doen such 

wrong. 
To let faire Florimell in bands remayne, 
In bands of love, and in sad thraldomes 

chayne ; 
From which , unlesse some heavenly powre 

her free 
By miracle, not yet appearing playne, 
She lenger yet is like captiv'd to bee ; 
That even to thinke thereof it inly pitties 

mee. 



Here neede you to remember, how ere- 

while 
Unlovely Proteus, missing to his mind 
That Virgins love to win by wit or wile, 
Her threw into a dongeon deepe and 

blind. 
And there in chaynes her cruelly did bind. 
In hope thereby her to his bent to draw: 
For, when as neither gifts nor graces kind 
Her constant mind could move at all he 

saw. 
He thought her to compell by crueltie and 

awe. 

III. 

Deepe in the bottome of an huge great 

rocke 
The dongeon was, in which her bound he 

left. 
That neither yronbarres, nor brasenlocke, 
Did neede to gard from force, or secret 

theft 
Of all her lovers which would her have 

reft: 
For wall'd it was with waves, which 

rag'd and ror'd 
As they the cliffe in peeces would have 

cleft ; 



Besides ten thousand monsters foule ab- 
hor 'd 

Did waite about it, gaping griesly, all be- 
gor'd. 

IV. 

And in the midst thereof did horror 

dwell, 
And darkenesse dredd that never \iewed 

day, 
Like to the balefull house of lowest hell, 
In which old Styx her aged bones alway, 
Old Styx the Grandanie of the Gods, doth 

lay. 
There did this lucklesse mayd seven 

months abide, 
Ne ever evening saw, ne mornings ray, 
Ne ever from the day the night descfide, 
But thought it all one night that did no 

houres divide. 



And all this was for love of Marinell, 
Who her despysd (ah! who would her de- 

spyse ?)■ 
And wemens love did from his hart expell, 
And all those joyes that weake mankind 

entyse. 
Nathlesse his pryde full dearely he did 

pryse ; 
For of a womans hand it was ywroke. 
That of the wound he yet in languor lyes, 
Ne can be cured of that cruell stroke 
Which Britomart him gave, when he did 

her provoke. 



Yet farre and neare the Nymph his 

mother sought. 
And many salves did to his sore applie, 
And many herbes did use. But when as 

nought, 
She saw, could ease his rankling maladie, 



360 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



At last to Tiyphon she for helpe did hie, 
(This Ti-yphon is the seagods surgeon 

hight,) 
Whom she besought to find some remedie, 
And for his paines a whistle him behight, 
That of a fishes shell was wrought with 

rare delight. 



So well that Leach did hearke to her re- 
quest, 
And did so well employ his carefull paine, 
That in short space his hurts he had re- 

drest, 
And him restor'd to healthfull state 

againe : 
In which he long time after did remaine 
There with the Nymph his mother, like 

her thrall ; 
Who sore against his will did him retaine, 
For feare of perill which to him mote fall 
Through his too ventrous prowesse proved 
over all. 

VIII. 

It fortun'd then, a solerane feast was 

there 
To all the Sea-gods and their fruitfuU 

seede, 
In honour of the spousalls which then 

were 
Betwixt the Medway and the Thames 

agreed. 
Long had the Thames (as we in records 

reed) 
Before that day her wooed to his bed, 
But the proud Nymph would for no 

worldly meed, 
Nor no entreatie, to his love be led ; 
Till now, at last relenting, she to him 

was wed. 

IX. 

So both agreed that this their bridale 

feast 
Should for the Gods in Proteus house be 

made ; 
To which they all repay r'd, both most and 

least. 
As well which in the mightie Ocean trade. 
As that in rivers swim, or brookes doe 

wade; 
All which, not if an hundred tongues to 

tell. 
And hundred mouthes, and voice of 

brasse I had. 
And endlesse memorie that mote excell, 
In order as they came could I recount 

them well. 

X, 

Helpe, therefore, O! thou sacred imp of 
Jove 



The nourslingof Dame Memorie his deare. 

To whom those roUes, layd up in heaven 
above. 

And records of antiquitie appeare. 

To which no wit of man may comen neare ; 

Helpe me to tell the names of all those 
floods 

And all those Nymphes, which then as- 
sembled were 

To that great banquet of the watry Gods, 

And all their sundry kinds, and all their 
hid abodes. 

XI. 

First came great Neptune, with his 

threeforkt mace, 
That rules the Seas and makes them rise 

or fall ; 
His dewy lockes did drop with brine apace 
Under his Diademe imperiall : 
And by his side his Queene with coronall, 
Faire Amphitrite, most divinely faire, 
Whose yvorie shoulders weren covered 

all. 
As with a robe, with her owne silver haire, 
And deckt with pearles which th' Indian 

seas for her prepaire. 

XII. 

These marched farre afore the other 

crew : 
And all the way before them, as they 

went, 
Triton his trompet shrill before them 

blew. 
For goodly triumph and great jollyment, 
That made the rockes to roare as they 

were rent. 
And after them the royall issue came. 
Which of them sprung by lineall descent: 
First the Sea-gods, which to themselves 

doe clame 
The powre to rule the billowes, and the 

waves to tame. 



Phorcys, the father of that fatall brood, 

By whom those old Heroes wonne such 
fame ; 

And Glaucus, that wise southsayes under- 
stood ; 

And tragicke Inoes sonne, the which be- 
came 

A God of seas through his mad mothers 
blame. 

Now higlit Palemon, and is saylers frend; 

Great Brontes; and Astrajus, that did I 
shame 

Himselfe with incest of his kin unkend ; 

And huge Orion, that doth tempests stiU 
portend ; 



CANTO XL] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



361 



The rich Cteatus ; and Eurytus long; 
Neleus and Pelias, lovely brethren both; 
Mightie Chrysaor ; and Caieus strong ; 
Eurypulus, that calmes the waters wroth ; 
And faire Euphoemus, that upon them goth 
As on the ground, without dismay or 

dread ; 
Fierce Eryx: and Alebius, that know'th 
The waters depth, and doth their bottome 

tread ; 
And sad Asopus, comely with his hoarie 

head. 

XV. 

There also some most famous founders 

were 
Of puissant Nations which the Avorld pos- 

sest, 
Yet sonnes of Neptune, now assembled 

here : 
Ancient Ogyges, even th' auncientest; 
And Inachus renowmd above the rest ; 
Phoenix, and Aon, and Pelasgus old ; 
Great Belus, Phceax, and Agenor best; 
And mightie Albion, father of the bold 
And warlike people which the Britaine j 

Islands hold : 



For Albion the sonne of Neptune was, 
"Who, for the proofe of his great puissance, 
Out of his Albion did on dry-foot pas 
Into old Gall, that now is cleeped France, 
To fight with Hercules, that did advance 
To vanquish all the woj-ld with match- 

lesse might ; 
And there his mortall part by great 

mischance 
Was slaine ; but that which is th' immor- 
tal 1 spright 
Lives still, and to this feast with Nep- 
tunes seed was dight. 

XVII. 

But what doe I their names seeke to 

reherse, 
Which all the world have with their issue 

fild? 
How can they all in this so narrow verse 
Contavned be, and in small compasse 

hild ? 
Let them record them that are better 

skild, 
And know the moniments of passed 

age: 
Onely what needeth shall be here fulfild, 
T' expresse some part of that great equi- 
page 
Which from great Neptune do derive 

their parentage. 



XVIII. 

Next came the aged Ocean and his 

Dame 
Old Tethys, th' oldest two of all the rest ; 
For all the rest of those two parents 

came. 
Which afterward both sea and land 

possest ; 
Of all which Nereus, th' eldest and the 

best, 
Did first proceed, then Aviiich none more 

upright, 
Ne more sincere in word and deed pro- 

fest; 
Most voide of guile, most free from fowle 

despight, 
Doing him selfe, and teaching others to 

doe right. 



Thereto he was expert in prophecies, 
And could the ledden of the gods unfold ; 
Through which, when Paris brought his 

famous prise. 
The faire Tindarid lasse, he him fortold 
That her all Greece with many a cham- 
pion bold 
Should fetch againe, and finally destroy 
Proud Priams towne. So wise is Nereus 

old, 
And so well skild ; nathlesse he takes 

great joy 
Oft-times amongst the wanton Nymphs 
to sport and toy. 

XX. 

And after him the famous rivers came, 
Which doe the earth enrich and beautifie : 
The fertile Nile, which creatures new 

doth frame; 
Long Rhodanus, whose sourse springs 

from the skie ; 
Faire Ister, fiowing from the mountaines 

hie: 
Divine Scamander, purpled yet with 

blood 
Of Greeks and Trojans which therein did 

die ; 
Pactolus glistring with his golden flood : 
And Tygris fierce, whose streames of 

none may be withstood ; 

XXI. 

Great Ganges, and immortall Euphra- 
tes, 
Deepe Indus, and Maeander intricate, 
Slow Peneus, and tempestuous Phasides, 
Swift Rhene, and Alpheus still immacu- 
late, 
Ooraxes, feared for great Cyrus fate, 



362 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV 



Tybris, renowmed for the Romaines fame, 
Rich Oranochy, though but knowen late ; 
And that huge River, which doth beare 

his name 
Of warlike Amazons, who doe possesse 

the same. 

XXII. 

Joy on those warlike women, which so 

long 
Can from all men so rich a kingdoms 

hold ! 
And shame on you, O men! which boast 

your strong 
And valiant hearts, in thoughts lesse 

hard and bold, 
Yet quaile in conquest of that land of 

gold. 
But this to you, O Britons! most per- 
tain es, 
To whom the right hereof it selfe hath 

sold, 
The which, for sparing litle cost or 

paines, 
Loose so immortall glory, and so eudlesse 

gaines. 

XXIII. 

Then there was heard a most celestiall 

sound 
Of dainty musicke, which did next ensew 
Before the spouse : that was Arion 

crownd ; 
Who, playing on his harpe, unto him 

drew 
The eares and hearts of all that goodly 

crew. 
That even yet the Dolphin, which him 

bore 
Through the Agsean seas from Pirates 

vew, 
Stood still by him astonisht at his lore. 
And all the raging seas for joy forgot to 

rore. 

XXIV. 

So went he playing on the watery 

plaine ; 
Soone after whom the lovely Bridegroome 

came, 
The noble Thamis, with all his goodly 

train e ; 
But him before there went, as best be- 
came, 
His auncient parents, namely th' aun- 

cient Thame. 
But much more aged was his wife then he. 
The Ouze, whom men doe Isis rightly 

name; 
Full w eeke and crooked creature seemed 

shee. 
And almost blind through eld, that scarce 

her way could see. 



XXV. 

Therefore on either side she was sus- 
tained 
Of two smal grooms, which by their 

names were hight 
The Churne and Charwell, two small 

streanies, which pained 
Them selves her footing to direct aright. 
Which fayled oft through faint and feeble 

plight : 
But Thame was stronger, and of better 

stay ; 
Yet seem'd full aged by his outward 

sight. 
With head all hoary, and his beard all 

gi'ay. 
Deawed with silver drops that trickled 

downe alway. 



And eke he somewhat seem'd to stoupe 

afore 
With bowed backe, by reason of the lode 
And auncient heavy burden which he bore 
Of that faire City, wherein make abode 
So many learned impes, that shoote 

abrode, 
And with their braunches spred all 

Britany, 
No lesse then do her elder sisters broode. 
Jt)y to you both, ye double noursery 
Of Arts! but, Oxford, thine doth Thame 

most glorify. 

XXVII. 

But he their Sonne full fresh and jolly 

was, 
All decked in a robe of watchet hew. 
On which the waves, glittering like 

Christall glas, 
So cunningly enwoven were, that few 
Could weenen whether they were false or 

trew : 
And on his head like to a Coronet 
He wore, that seemed strange to common 

vew. 
In which were many towres and castels 

set, 
That it encompast round as with a golden 

fret. 

XXVIII. 

Like as the mother of the Gods, they 
say, 
In her great iron charet wonts to ride. 
When to Joves pallace she doth take her 

way. 
Old Cybele, arayd with pompous pride, 
Wearing a Diademe embattild wide 
With hundred turrets, like a Turribant; 
With such an one was Thamis beautifide ; 



CANTU XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



2>(>Z 



That was to weet the famous Troyuovaut, 
lu which her kiugdomes throne is chiefly 
resiant. 

XXIX. 

And round about him many a pretty 

Page 
Attended duely, ready to obay ; 
All little Rivers which owe vassallage 
To him, as to their Lord, and tribute pay: 
The chaulky Kenet, and the Thetis gray, 
The morish Cole, and the soft sliding 

Breane, 
The wanton Lee, that oft doth loose his 

way; 
And the still Darent, in whose waters 

cleane 
Ten thousand fishes play and decke his 

pleasant streame. 



Then came his neighbour flouds which 
nigh him dwell, 

And water all the English soile through- 
out : 

They all on him this day attended well, 

And with meet service waited him about, 

Ne none disdained low to lout : 

No, not the stately Severne grudg'd at 
all, 

Ne storming Humber, though he looked 
stout; 

But both him honor'd as their principall, 

And let their swelling waters low before 
him fall. 

XXXI. 

There was the speedy Tamar, which de- 

vides 
The Cornish and the Devonish confines ; 
Through both whose borders swiftly 

downe it glides. 
And, meeting Flim, to Plimmouth thence 

declines : 
And Dart, nigh chockt with sands of tinny 

mines. 
But Avon marched in more stately path, 
Proud of his Adamants with which he 

shines 
And glisters wide, as als' of wondrous 

Bath, 
And Bristow faire, which on his waves he 

builded hath. 

XXXII. 

And there came Stoure with terrible 

aspect, 
Bearing his sixe deformed heads on hye. 
That doth his course through Blandford 

plains direct, 
And washeth Winborne meades in season 

drye. 



Next him went AVylibourne with passage 

slye, 
That of his wylinesse his name doth take, 
And of him selfe doth name the shire 

thereby : 
And Mole, tliat like a nousling Mole doth 

make 
His way still under ground, till Thamis 

he overtake. 

XXXIII. 

Then came the Rother, decked all with 

woods 
Like a wood God, and flowing fast to 

Rhy; 
And Sture, that pareth with his pleasant 

floods 
The Easterne Saxons from the Southerne 

And Clare and Harwitch both doth beau- 
tify: 
Him follow'd Yar, soft washing Norwitch 

wall, 
And with him brought a present joyfully 
Of his owne fish unto their festival!, 
Whose like none else could shew, the 
which they Ruflins call. 

xxxiv. 

Next these the plenteous Ouse came far 
from land. 
By many a city and by many a towne 
x\nd many rivers taking under-hand 
Into his waters as he passeth downe, 
The Cle, the Were, the Grant, the Sture, 

the Rowne. 
Thence doth by Huntingdon and Cam- 
bridge flit. 
My mother Cambridge, whom as with a 

Crowne 
He doth adorne, and is adorn'd of it 
With many a gentle Muse and many a 
learned wit. 



XXX v. 
And after him the fatal 1 Welland went, 
That, if old sawes prove true (which God 

forbid !) 
Shall drowne all Holland with his excre- 
ment, 
And shall see Stamford, though now 

homely hid. 
Then shine in learning, more than ever 

did 
Cambridge or Oxford, Englands goodly 

beanies. 
And next to him the Nene downe softly 

slid; 
And bounteous Trent, that in him selfe 

enseames 



364 



THE FAERIE QUEENE.- 



[book IV. 



Both thirty sorts of fish, and thirty sun- 
dry streames. 



Next these came Tyne, along whose 

stony bancke 
ThatRoniaineMonarchhuiltabrasen wall, 
Which mote the feebled Britons strongly 

flancke 
Against the Picts that swarmed over-all, 
AVhich yet thereof Gualsever they doe call : 
And Twede, the limit betwixt Logris land 
And Albany: And Eden, though but 

small, 
Yet often stainde with bloud of many a 

band 
Of Scots and English both, that tyned on 

his strand. 



Then came those sixe sad brethren, like 

forlorne, 
That whilome were (as antique fathers 

tell) 
Sixe valiant Knights of one faire Nymphe 

y borne, 
Which did in noble deedes of amies excell. 
And wonned there where now Yorke peo- 
ple dwell ; 
Still Ure, swift Werfe, and Oze the most 

of might, 
High Swale, unquiet Nide, and troublous 

Skell ; 
All whom a Scythian king, that Humber 

bight, 
Slew cruelly, and in the river drowned 

quight. 

XXXVIII. 

But past not long ere Brutus warlicke 

Sonne, 
Locrinus, them aveng'd, and the same 

date, 
Which the proud Humber unto them had 

donne, 
By equall dome repayd on his owne pate : 
For in the selfe same river, where he late 
Had drenched them, he drowned him 

againe. 
And nam'd the river of his wretched fate 
Whose bad condition yet it doth retaine, 
Oft tossed with his stormes which therein 

still remaine. 

xxxix. 

These after came the stony shallow 

Lone, 
That to old Loncaster his name doth lend ; 
And following Dee, which Britons long 

ygone 
Did call divine, that doth by Chester tend ; 



And Conway, which out of his streame 
doth send 

Plenty of pearles to decke his dames 
withall ; 

And Lindus that his pikes doth most com- 
mend. 

Of which the auncient Lincolne men doe 
call: 

All these together marched toward Pro- 
teus hall. 

XL. 

Ne thence the Irishe Rivers absent were, 
Sith no lesse famous then the rest they 

bee. 
And joyne in neighbourhood of kingdome 

nere. 
Why should they not likewise in love 

agree. 
And joy likewise this solemne day to see ? 
They saw it all, and present were in place ; 
Though I them all according their degree 
Cannot recount, nor tell their hidden race, 
Nor read the salvage cuntreis thorough 

which they pace. 

XLI. 

There was the Liffy rolling downe the 

lea, 
The sandy Slane, the stony Aubrian, 
The spacious Shenan spreading like a sea, 
The pleasant Boyne, the fishy fruitfull 

Ban, 
Swift Awniduff, which of the English man 
Is cal'de Blacke-water, and the Liifar deep. 
Sad Trowis, that once his people over-ran. 
Strong Alio tombling from Slewlogher 

steep. 
And Mulla mine, whose waves 1 whilom 

taught to weep. 



And there the three renowmed brethren 
were, 
Which that great Gyant Blomius begot 
Of the faire Nimph Rheusa wandring 

there. 
One day, as she to shunne the season whot 
Tnder Slewboome in shady grove was got. 
This Gyant found her and by force de- 

flowr'd ; 
Whereof conceiving, she in time forth 

brought 
These three faire sons, which being thence- 
forth powrd 
Itt three great rivers ran, and many coun- 
treis scowrd. 

XLTII. 

The first the gentle Shure that, making 
way 



CANTO XI. J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



365 



By sweet Clonmell, adornes rich Water- 
ford ; 

Thb next, the stubborue Newre Avhose 
waters gray 

By faire Kilkenny and Rossepoute boord ; 

The third, the goodly Barow whicli doth 
hoord 

Great heapes of salmons in his deepe 
bosome : 

All which, long sundred, doe at last accord 

To joyne in one, ere to the sea they come ; 

So, tiowing all from one, all one at last 
become. 

XLIV. 

There also was the wide embayed Mayre ; 

The pleasaunt Bandon crownd with many 
a wood ; 

The spreadingLee that, like an Island fay re, 

Encloseth Corke with his derided flood ; 

And balefnll Onre, late staind with Eng- 
lish blood, 

With many more whose names no tongue 
can lell : 

All which that day in order seemly good 

Did on the Thamis attend, and waited 
well 

To doe their dueful service, as to them 
befell. 

XLV. 

Then came the Bride, the lovely Medua 

came. 
Clad in a vesture of unknowen geare 
And uncouth fashion, yet her well became. 
That seem'd like silver, sprinckled here 

and theare 
With glittering spangs that did like starres 

appeare, 
And wav'd upon, like water Chamelot, 
To hide the metall, which yet everywhere 
Bewrayd it self e, to let men plainely wot 
It was no mortall worke, that seem'd and 

yet was not. 



Her goodly lockes adowne her backe did 

flow 
Unto her waste, with flowres bescattered. 
The which ambrosiall odours forth did 

throw 
To all about, and all her shoulders spred 
As a new spring; and likewise on her hed 
A Chapelet of sundrj^ flowers she wore, 
From under which the deawy humour shed 
Did tricle downe her haire, like to the 

bore 
Congealed litle drops which doe the morne 

adore. 

XLVII. 

On her two pretty handmaides did at- 
tend, 



One cald the Theise, the other cald the 

Crane, 
Which on her waited things amisse to 

mend. 
And both behind upheld her spredding 

traine ; 
Under the which her feet appeared plain e, 
Her silver feet, faire washt against this 

day : 
And her before there paced Pages twaine. 
Both clad in colours like, and like array. 
The Doune and eke the Frith, both which 

prepard her way. 

XLVIII. 

And after these the Sea Nymphs 

marched all, 
All goodly damzels, deckt with long 

grcene haire. 
Whom of their sire Nereides men call. 
All which the Oceans daughter to him 

bare, • 
The gray-eyde Doris : all which fifty are. 
All which she there on her attending had : 
Swift Proto, milde Eucrate, Thetis faire, 
Soft Spio, sweete Eiidorc, Sao sad, 
Light Doto, wanton Glauce, and Galene 

glad : 

XLIX. 

White hand Eunica, proud Dynameuc, 
Joyous Thalia, goodly Araphitrite, 
Lovely Pasithee, kinde Eulimene, 
Lightloote Cymothoe, and sweete INIelite, 
Fairest Fherusa, Phao lilly white, 
Wondred Agave, Poris, and Nesa;a, 
With Erato that doth in love delite. 
And Panopfe, and wise Protomedsea, 
And snowy neckd Doris, and railkewhite 
Galathfea : 

L. 

Speedy Hippothoe, and chaste Actea, 
Large Lisianassa, and Pronaea sage, 
Euagore, and light Pontoporea, 
And she that with her least word can 

asswage 
The surging seas, when they do sorest 

rage, 
Cymodoce, and stout Autonoe, 
And Neso, and Eione well in age, 
And, seeming still to smile, Glauconome, 
And she that hight of many heastes Poly- 

nome ; 



Fresh Alimeda deckt with girlond 
greene ; 
Hyponeo with salt-bedewed wrests ; 
Laomedia like the christall sheene ; 
Liagore much praisd for wise behests; 
And Psamathe for her brode snoM'y brests ; 



2,66 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Cymo, Eupompe, and Themiste just ; 

And, she that vertue loves aud vice de- 
tests, 

Euarna, and Menippe true iu trust, 

And Nemertea learned well to rule her 
lust, 

LII. 

All these the daughters of old Nereus 
were, 

Which have the sea iu charge to them 
assinde. 

To rule his tides, and surges to uprere. 

To bring forth stormes, or fast them to 
upbinde„ 

And sailers save from wreckes of wrath- 
full winde. 

And yet, besides, three thousand more 
there were 

Of th' Oceans seede, but Joves and Phoe- 
bus kinde : 



The which in floods and fountaines doe 

appere, 
Aud all maukinde do nourish with their 

waters clere. 

LIU. 

The which, more eath it were for mor- 
tall wight 
To tell the sands, or count the starres on 

Or ought more hard, then thinke to reckon 

right. 
But well I wote that these, which I descry, 
Were present at this great solemnity: 
And there, amongst the rest, the mother 

w^as 
Of kickelesse Marinell, Cymodoce ; 
Which, for my Muse her selfe now tyred 

has. 
Unto an other Canto I will overpas. 



CANTO XII. 

Marin for love of Florimell 
In languor wastes his life : 

The Nymph, his mother, getteth her 
And gives to him for wife. 



! WHAT an endlesse worke have I in 

hand. 
To count the seas abundant progeny, 
Whose f ruitfuU seede farre passeth those 

in land. 
And also those which wonne in th' azure 

sky: 
For much more eath to tell the starres on 

hy, 

Albe they endlesse seeme in estimation, 
Then to recount the Seas posterity : 
So fertile be the tlouds in generation, 
So huge their numbers, and so number- 
lesse their nation. 



Therefore the antique wisards well in- 
vented 

That Venus of the fomy sea was bred. 

For that the seas by her are most aug- 
mented: 

Witnesse th' exceeding fry which there are 
fed, 

And wondrous sholes which may of none 
be red. 

Then, blame me not if I have err'd in 
count 

Of Gods, of Nymphs, of rivers, yetunred ; 

For though their numbers do much more 
surmount. 

Yet all those same were there which erst 
I did recount. 



HI. 

All those were there, and many other 

more. 
Whose names and nations were too long 

to tell, 
That Proteus house they fild even to the 

dore; 
Yet were they all in order, as befell. 
According their degrees disposed well. 
Amongst the rest was faire Cymodoce, 
The mother of unlucky Marinell, 
Who thither with her came, to learne and 

see 
The manner of the Gods when they at 

banquet be. 



But for he was halfe mortall, being 

bred 
Of mortall sire, though of immortall 

Avombe, 
He might not with immortall food be fed, 
Ne with th' eternall Gods to bancket 

come ; 
But walkt abrode, and roimd about did 

rome 
To view the building of that uncouth 

place. 
That seem'd unlike unto his earthly home : 
Where, as he to and fro by chaunce did 

trace. 
There unto him betid a disaventrous 

case. 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



367 



Under the hanging of an hideous clieffe 
He heard the lamentable voice of one, 
That piteously complaind her carefull 

grieffe, 
Which never she before disclosd to none, 
Bat to her selfe her sorrow did benione : 
So feelingly her case she did coraplaine, 
That ruth it moved in the rocky stone, 
And made it seeme to feele her grievous 

paine, 
And oft to grone with billowes beating 

from the maine : 



* Though vaine, I see, my sorrowes to 

unfold, 
And count my cares when none is nigh to 

heare. 
Yet, hoping griefe may lessen being told, 
I will them tell though unto no man neai-e : 
For heaven, that unto all lends equall 

eare, 
Is farre from hearing of my heavy plight ; 
And lowest hell, to which I lie most neare, 
Cares not what evils hap to wretched 

wight ; 
And greedj'^ seas doe in the spoile of life 
delight. 

vii. 
' Yet loe! the seas, I see, by often beat- 
ing 
Doe pearce the roekes, and hardest mar- 
ble weares : 
But his hard rocky hart for no entreating 
Will yeeld, but when my piteous plaints 

he heares, 
Is hardned more with my aboundant 

teares : 
Yet though he never list to me relent. 
But let me waste in woe my wretched 

yeares. 
Yet will I never of my love repent, 
But joy that for his sake I suffer prison- 
ment. 

VIII. 

* And when my weary ghost, with griefe 

outworne. 
By timely death shall winne her wished 

rest, 
Let then this plaint unto his eares be 

borne, 
That blame it is to him, that armes pro- 

fest. 
To let her die whom he might have re- 

drest.' 
There did she pause, inforced to give place 
Unto the passion that her heart opprest ; 
And, after she had wept and wail'd a 

space, 



She gan afresh thus to renew her wretched 
case. 

IX. 

' Ye Gods of seas, if any Gods at all 
Have care of right, or ruth of wretches 

wrong, 
By one or other way me, woefull thrall, 
Deliver hence out of this dungeon strong. 
In which I daily dying am too long: 
And if ye deeme me death for loving one 
That loves not me, then doe it not pro- 
long. 
But let me die and end my dales attone, 
And let him live unlov'd, or love him 
selfe alone. 

X. 

' But if that life ye unto me decree. 
Then let mee live as lovers ought to do, 
And of my lifes deare love beloved be : 
And if he should through pride your 

doome undo. 
Do you by duresse him compell thereto. 
And in this prison put him here with me ; 
One prison fittest is to hold us two. 
So had I rather to be thrall then free ; 
Such thraldome or such freedome let it 

surely be. 

XI. 

' But O vaine judgement, and conditions 

vaine, 
The which the prisoner points unto the 

free ! 
The whiles I him condemne, and deeme 

his paine. 
He where he list goes loose, and laughes 

at me. 
So ever loose, so ever happy be! 
But where so loose or happy that thou art. 
Know, Marinell, that all this is for tiiee.' 
With that she wept and wail'd, as if her 

hart 
Would (^uite have burst through great 

abundance of her smart. 

XIT. 

All which complaint when Marinell had 
heard, 
And understood the cause of all her care 
To come of him for using her so hard. 
His stubborne heart, that never felt mis- 
fare. 
Was touch t with soft remorse and pitly 

rare ; 
That even for griefe of minde he oft did 

grone, 
And inly wish that in his powre it weare 
Her to redresse: but since he meaues 

found none, 
He could no more but her great misery 
bemone. 



368 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Thus whilst his stony heart with tender 

ruth 
"Was toucht, and mighty courage mollifide, 
Dame Venus sonne, that tameth stubborue 

youth 
With iron bit, and maketh him abide 
Till like a victor on his backe he ride, 
Into his mouth his maystring bridle threw, 
That made him stoupe, till he did him 

bestride : 
Then gan he make him tread his steps 

anew, 
And learne to love by learning lovers 

paiues to rew. 



Now gan he in his grieved minde devise, 
How from that dungeon lie might her en- 
large. 
Some while he thought, by faire and 

humble wise 
To Proteus selfe to sue for her discharge: 
But then he fear'd his mothers former 

charge 
Gainst womens love, long given him in 

vaine : 
Then gan he thinke, perforce with sword 

and targe 
Her forth to fetch, and Proteus to cou- 

straine ; 
But soone he gan such folly to forthinke 

againe. 

XV. 

Then did he cast to steale her thence 

away, 
And with him beare where none of her 

might know : 
But all in vaine, for-why he found noway 
To enter in, or issue forth below ; 
For all about that rocke the sea did flow : 
And though unto his will she given were, 
Yet without ship or bote her thence to row. 
He wist not how her thence away to here. 
And daunger well he wist long to continue 

there. 

XVI, 

At last, when as no meanes he could 

invent, 
Backe to him selfe he gan returne the 

blame, 
That was the author of her punishment; 
And with vile curses and reprochfull 

shame 
To damne him selfe by every evil name, 
And deeme unworthy or of love or life. 
That had despisde so chast and faire a 

dame. 
Which him had sought through trouble 

and long strife, 



Yet had ref usde a God that her had sought 
to wife. 

XVII. 

In this sad plight he walked here and 

there. 
And romed round about the rocke in 

value, 
As he had lost him selfe he wist not 

where ; 
Oft listening if he mote her heare againe. 
And still bemoning her unworthy paiue. 
Like as an Hynde, whose calfe has faliie 

un wares 
Into some pit, where she him heares com- 

plaine. 
An hundred times about the pit side fares 
Right sorrowfully mourning her bereaved 

cares. 

XVIII. 

And now by this the feastwas throughly 

ended, 
And every one gan homeward to resort : 
Which seeing, Marinell was sore offended 
That his departure thence should be so 

short, 
And leave his love in that sea-walled fort. 
Yet durst he not his mother disobay, 
But her attending in full .seemly sort. 
Did march amongst the many all the 

way. 
And all the way did inly mourne, like one 

astray. 

XIX. 

Being returned to his mothers bowre. 
In solitary silence, far from wight. 
He gan record the lamentable stowre, 
In which his wretched love lay day and 

night 
For his deare sake, that ill deserv'd that 

plight : 
The thought whereof empierst his hart so 

deepe, 
That of no worldly thing he tooke delight ; 
Xe dayly food did take, ne nightly sleepe. 
But pyn'd, and mourn'd, and languisht, 

and alone did weepe. 

XX. 

That in short space his wonted cheare- 

fuU hew 
Gan fade, and lively spirits deaded quiglit: 
His cheeke-bones raw, and eie-pits hollow 

grew, 
And brawney armes had lost their knowen 

might, 
That nothing like himselfe he seera'd in 

sight. 
Ere long so weake of limbe, and sicke of 

love 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



369 



He woxe, that leuger he note stand 

up4.-ight, 
But to his bed was brought, and layd 

above, 
Like ruefull ghost, unable once to stirre 

or move. 

XXI. 

Which when his mother saw, she in her 

mind 
Was troubled sore, ne wist well what to 

weene ; 
Ne could by search nor any raeanes out find 
The secret cause and nature of his teene, 
Whereby she might apply some medicine ; 
But weeping day and night did him attend. 
And mourn 'd to see her losse before her 

eyne, 
Which griev'd her more that she it could 

not mend : 
To see an helplesse evill double griefe doth 

lend. 

XXII. 

Nought could she read the roote of his 

disease, 
Ne weene what mister maladie it is, 
Whereby to seeke some meanes it to 

appease. 
Most did she thinke, but most she thonght 

amis. 
That that same former fatall wound of his 
Whyleare by Tryphon was not throughly 

healed, 
But closely rankled under th' orifis : 
Least did she thinke, that which he most 

concealed , 
That love it was, which in his hart lay 

uurevealed. 

XXIII. 

Therefore to Tryphon she againe doth 
hast. 

And him doth chyde as false and fraudu- 
lent, 

That fay Id the trust which she in him had 
piast. 

To cure her sonne, as he his faith had lent, 

Who now was f alne into new languishmeut 

Of his old hurt, which was not throughly 
cured. 

So backe he came unto her patient ; 

Where searching every part, her well 
assured 

That it was no old sore which his new 
paine procured ; 



But that it was some other maladie, 
Or grief unknowne, which he could not 

disc erne : 
So left he her withouten remedie. 



Then gan her heart to faint, and quake, 

and earne, 
And inly troubled was the truth to learne. 
Unto hiinselfe she came, and him besought. 
Now with faire speches, now with threat- 

nings Sterne, 
If ought lay hidden in his grieved thonght. 
It toreveale ; who still her answered, there 

was nought. 



Nathlesse she rested not so satisfide ; 
But leaving watry gods, as booting 

nought, 
Unto the shinie heaven in haste she hide. 
And thence Apollo, King of Leaches, 

brought. 
Apollo came ; who, soone as he had sought 
Through his disease, did by and by out 

find 
That he did languish of some inward 

thought, 
The which affiicted his engrieved mind ; 
Which love he red to be, that leads each 

living kind. 

XXVI. 

Which when he had unto his mother 

told. 
She gan thereat to fret and greatly grieve ; 
And, comming to her sonne, gan first to 

scold 
And chyde at him that made her mis- 
believe : 
But afterwards she gan him soft to 

shrieve, 
And wooe with fair intreatie, to disclose 
Which of the Nymphes his heart so sore 

did mieve ; 
For sure she weend it was some one of 

those, 
Which he had lately scene, that for his 

love he chose. 

XXVII. 

Now lesse she feared that same fatall 

read, 
That warned him of womens love beware, 
Which being ment of mortall creatures 

sead, 
For love of Nymphes she thought she need 

not care, 
But promist him, whatever wight she 

weare, 
That she her love to him would shortly 

gaine. 
So he her told : but soone as she did heare 
That Florimell it was which wrought his 

paine, 
She gan afresh to chafe, and grieve in 

every vaine. 



370 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book IV. 



Yet since she saw the streight extremitie, 
In which his life unluckily was layd, 
It was no time to scan the prophecie, 
Whether old Proteus true or false had sayd, 
That his decay sliould happen by a mayd. 
It's late in death of daunger to advize, 
Or love forbid him, that is life denayd; 
But rather gan in troubled mind devize 
How she that Ladies libertie might enter- 
prize. 

XXIX. 

To Proteus selfe to sew she thought it 

vaine. 
Who was the root and worker of her woe, 
Nor unto any meaner to complaine ; 
But unto great king Neptune selfe did goe, 
And, on her knee before him falling lowe, 
Made humble suit unto his Majestic 
To graunt to her her sonnes life, which 

his foe, 
A cruell Tyrant, had presumpteouslie 
By wicked doome condemn'd a wretched 

death to die. 



To whom God Neptune, softly smyling, 

thus: 
' Daughter, me seemes of double wrong 

ye plaine, 
Gainst one that hath both wronged you 

and us; 
For death t' adward I ween'd did apper- 

taine 
To none but to the seas sole Soveraine. 
Read therefore who it is which this hath 

wrought. 
And for what cause ; the truth discover 

plaine. 
For never wight so evill did or thought, 
But would some rightfull cause pretend, 

though rightly nought.' 

XXXI. 

To whom she answer'd : ' Then, it is by 

name 
Proteus, that hath ordayn'd my sonne to 

die ; 
For that a waift, the which by fortune 

came 
Upon your seas, he claym'd as propertie : 
And yet nor his, nor his in equitie. 
But yours the waift by high prerogative. 
Therefore I humbly crave your Majestic 
It to replevie, and my sonne reprive. 
So shall you by one gift save all us three 

alive.' 

XXXII. 

He graunted it: and streight his war- 
rant made, 



Under the Sea-gods scale autenticall, 

Commaunding Proteus straight t' enlarge 
the mayd, 

Which wandring on his seas imperiall 

He lately tooke, and sithence kept as 
thrall. 

Which she receiving with meete thanke- 
fulnesse, 

Departed straight to Proteus there- 
withal! ; 

Who, reading it with inward loathful- 
nesse. 

Was grieved to restore the pledge he did 
possesse. 

xxxin. 

Yet durst he not the warrant to with- 
stand, 

But unto her delivered Florimell : 

Whom she receiving by the lilly hand, 

Admyr'd her beautie much, as she mote 
well. 

For she all living creatures did excell ; 

And was right joyous that she gotten 
had 

So faire a wife for her sonne Marinell. 

So home with her she streight the virgin 
lad, 

And shewed her to him, then being sore 
bestad. 

XXXIV. 

Who soone as he beheld that angels face 
Adorn 'd with all divine perfection, 
Hischeared hart eftsoones away gan chace 
Sad death, reviv^ed with her sweet inspec- 
tion. 
And feeble spirit inly felt refection : 
As withered weed through cruell winters 

tine, 
That feeles the warmth of sunny beames 

reflection, 
Liftes up his head that did before decline, 
And gins to spread his leafe before the 
faire sunshine. 



Right so himselfe did Marinell up- 
reare, 
When he in place his dearest love did 

spy; 

And though his limbs could not his bodie 

beare, 
Ne former strength returne so suddenly. 
Yet chearefull signes he shewed out- 
wardly. 
Ne lesse was she in secret hart affected, 
But that she masked it with modestie. 
For feare she should of lightnesse be 

detected : 
Which to another place I leave to be per- 
fected. 



THE FIFTH BOOKE 

OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

CONTAYNING THE LEGEND OF ARTEGALL OR OP JUSTICE. 



I. 

So oft as I with state of present time 
The image of the antique world compare, 
When as mans age was in his freshest 

prime, 
And the first hlossome of f aire vertue bare ; 
Such oddes I finde twixt those, and these 

which are, 
As that, through long continuance of his 

course, 
Me seemes the world is runne quite out of 

square 
From the first point of his appointed 

sourse ; 
And being once amisse growes daily 

wourse and wourse : 

II. 

For from the golden age, that first was 

named, 
It's now at earst become a stonie one ; 
And men themselves, the which at first 

were framed 
Of earthly mould, and form'd of flesh and 

bone, 
Are now transformed into hardest stone ; 
Such as behind their backs (so backward 

bred) 
Were throwneby Pyrrhaand Deucalione: 
And if then those may any worse be red, 
They into that ere long 'will be degen- 

dered. 

HI. 

Let none then blame me, if in discipline 
Of vertue and of civill uses lore, 
I doe not forme them to the common line 
Of present dayes, which are corrupted 

sore. 
But to the antique use which was of yore. 
When good was onely for it selfe desyred, 
And all men sought their owne, and none 

no more; 
When Justice was not for most meed out- 

hyred, 
But simple Truth did rayne, and was of 

all admyred. 

37 



For that which all men then did vertue 
call, 
Is now cald vice ; and that which vice 

was bight, 
Is now bight vertue, and so us'd of all : 
Right now is wrong, and wrong that was 

is right ; 
As all things else in time are ehaunged 

q night : 
Ne wonder ; for the heavens revolution 
Is wandred farre from where it first was 

pight. 
And so doe make contrarie constitution 
Of all this lower world, toward his disso- 
lution. 

v. 

For who so list into the heavens looke. 
And search the courses of the rowHng 

spheares, 
Shall find that from the point where they 

first tooke 
Their setting forth, in these few thousand 

yeares 
They all are wandred much ; that plaine 

appeares : 
For that same golden fleecy Ram, which 

bore 
Phrixus and Helle from their stepdames 

feares, 
Hath now forgot where he was plast of 

yore, 
And shouldred hath the Bull which fayre 

Europa bore : 



And eke the Bull hath with his bow-bent 

home 
So hardly butted those two twinnes of 

Jove, 
That they have crusht the Crab, and quite 

him borne 
Into the great Nemaean lions grove. 
So now all range, and doe at randon 

rove 
Out of their proper places farre away, 

I 



372 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And all this world with them amisse doe 

move, 
And all his creatures from their course 

astray, 
Till they arrive at their last ruinous decay. 

VII. 

Ne is that same great glorious lampe of 

light, 
That doth enlumine all these lesser^f^res, 
In better case, ue keepes his c^lirsemSfe 

right, 
But is niiscaried with the other Spheres: 
For since the terme of fourteene hundred 

yeres, 
That "learned Ptolomsee his hight did 

take. 
He is declyned from that marke of theirs 
Nigh thirtie minutes to the Southerue 

lake ; 
That makes me feare in time he will us 

quite forsake. 



And if to those Egyptian wisards old. 
Which in Star-read were wont have best 

insight, 
Faith may be given, it is by them told 
That since the time they first tooke the 

Suunes hight, 
Foure times his place he shifted hath in 

sight. 
And twice hath risen where he now doth 

West, 
And wested twice where he ought rise 

aright : 
But most is Mars amisse of all the rest, 
And next to him old Saturne, that was 

wont be best. 



For during Saturnes ancient raigne it's 
sayd 
That all the world with gooduesse did 
abound : 



All loved vertue, no man was affrayd 
Of force, ne fraud in wight was to be 

found : 
No warre was knowne, no dreadfull trom- 

pets sound ; 
Peace universall rayn'd mongst men and 

beasts. 
And all things freely grew out of the 

ground : 
Justice sate high ador'd with solemue 

feasts. 
And to all people did divide her dred be- 

heasts : 

X. 

Most sacred vertue she of all the rest, 
Resembling God in his imperiall might ; 
Whose soveraine powre is herein most 

exprest. 
That both to good and bad he dealeth 

right. 
And all his workes with Justice hath be- 

dight. 
That powre he also doth to Princes lend. 
And makes them like himselfe in glorious 

sight 
To sit in his own seate, his cause to end, 
And rule his people right, as he doth 

recommend . 



XI. 

Dread Soverayue Goddesse, that doest 

highest sit 
In seate of judgement in th' Almighties 

stead. 
And with magnificke might and wondrous 

wit 
Doest to thy people righteous doome 

aread, 
That furthest Nations filles with awful 

dread. 
Pardon the boldnesse of thy basest thrall, 
That dare discourse of so divine a read 
As tliy great justice, praysed over-all ; 
The instrument whereof loe! here thy 

Artegall. 



CANTO I. 

Artegall trayn'd in Justice lore 
Irenaes quest pursewed ; 

He doth avenge on Sanglier 
His Ladies bloud embrewed. 



Though vertue then were held in high- 
est price, 
In those old times of which I doe entreat, 
Yet then likewise the wicked seede of vice 
Began to si)ring ; which shortly grew full 
great, 



And with their boughes the gentle plants 

did beat : 
But evermore some of the vertuous race 
Rose up, inspired with heroicke heat, 
That cropt the branches of the sient base. 
And with strong hand their fruitful ranck- 

ues did deface. 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



373 



Such first was Bacchus, that with furi- 
ous might 

All th' East, before untam'd, did over- 
ronne, 

And wrong repressed, and establisht rig:ht, 

Which lawlesse men had formerly for- 
donne: 

There Justice first her princely rule be- 
gonne. 

Next Hercules his like ensample shewed. 

Who all the West with equall conquest 
wonne, 

And monstrous tyrants with his club sub- 
dewed : 

The club of Justice dread with kingly 
powre endewed. 

ni. 

And such was he of whom I have to 

tell, 
The Champion of true Justice, Artegall : 
Whom (as ye lately mote remember well) 
An hard adventure, which did then befall, 
Into redoubted perill forth did call ; 
That was to succour a distressed Dame 
Whom a strong tyrant did unjustly 

thrall, 
And from the heritage, which she did 

clame, 
Did with strong hand withhold ; Grantorto 

was his name. 



Wherefore the Lady, which Irena bight, 
Did to the Faery Queene her way ad- 

dresse, 
To whom complayning her afllicted 

plight, 
She her besought of gratious redresse. 
That soveraine Queene, that mightie Em- 

peresse. 
Whose glorie is to aide all suppliants 

pore, 
And oi weake Princes to be Patronesse, 
Chose Artegall to right her to restore ; 
For that to her he seem'd best skild in 

righteous lore. 



For Artegall in justice was upbrought 
Even from the cradle of his infancie. 
And all the depth of rightfull doome was 

taught 
By faire Astrsea with great Industrie, 
Whilest here on earth she lived mortallie : 
For till the world from his perfection fell 
Into all filth and foule iniquitie, 
Astrsea here mongst earthly men did 
dwell, 



And in the rules of justice them in- 
structed well. 



Whiles through the world she walked 

in this sort. 
Upon a day she found this gentle childe 
Amongst his peres playing his childish 

sport ; 
AVhom seeing fit, and with no crime de- 

filde. 
She did allure with gifts and speaches 

milde 
To wend with her. So thence him farre 

she brought 
Into a cave from companie exilde. 
In which she noursled him till yeares he 

raught. 
And all the discipline of justice there him 

taught. 

VII. 

There she him taught to weigh both 
right and wrong- 
In equall ballance with due recompeuce, 
And equitie to measure out along- 
According to the line of conscience, 
When so it needs with rigour to dispence : 
Of all the which, for want there of man- 
kind, 
She caused him to make experience 
Upon wyld beasts, which she in woods 

did find 
With wrong-full powre oppressing others 
of their kind. 



Thus she him trayned, and thus she him 

taught 
In all the skill of deeming wrong and 

right, 
Untill the ripenesse of mans yeares he 

raught; 
That even wilde beasts did feare his 

awfull sight. 
And men admyr'd his over-ruling might; 
Ne any liv'd on ground that durst with- 
stand 
Hisdreadfull beast, much lesse him match 

in fight. 
Or bide the horror of his wreakfull hand. 
When so he list in wrath lift up his steely 

brand, 

IX. 

Which steely brand, to make him 
dreaded more, 
She gave unto him, gotten by her slight 
And earnest search, where it was kept in 

store 
In Joves eternall house, unwist of wight, 



374 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



it us'd in tliat great 
whylome re- 



Since he himselfe 

tight 
Against the Titans, that 

belled 
Gainst highest heaven : Chrysaor it was 

hight; 
Chrysaor, that all other swords excelled, 
Well prov'd in that same day when Jove 

those Gyants quelled : 



For of most perfect metall it was made, 
Tempred with Adamant amongst the 

same. 
And garnisht all with gold upon the blade 
In goodly wise, whereof it tooke his 

name. 
And was of no lesse vertue then of fame ; 
For there no substance was so firme and 

hard. 
But it would pierce or cleave, where so it 

came, 
Ne any armour could his dint out-ward ; 
But wheresoever it did light, it throughly 

shard. 

XI. 

Now, when the world with sinne gan to 

abound, 
Astraea loathing leuger here to space 
Mongst wicked men, in whom no truth 

she found, 
Return 'd to heaven, whence she deriv'd 

her race ; 
Where she hath now an everlasting place 
Mongst those twelve signes, which nightly 

we doe see 
The heavens bright-shining baudricke 

to enchace ; 
And is the Virgin, sixt in her degree, 
And next her selfe her righteous ballance 

hanging bee. 



But when she parted hence she left her 

groome 
An yron man, which did on her attend 
Alwayes to execute her stedfast doome. 
And willed him with Artegall to wend. 
And doe what ever thing he did intend : 
His name was Talus, made of yron mould, 
Immoveable, i*esistlesse, without end ; 
Who in his hand an yron flale did hould, 
AVith which he thresht out falshood, and 

did truth uni'ould. 

XIII. 

He now went with him in this new 
inquest, 
Him for to aide, if aide he chaunce to 
neede, 



Against that cruell Tyrant, which opprest 
The faire Irena with his I'oule misdeede, 
And kept the crowne in which she should 

succeed : 
And now together on their way they bin, 
When as they saw a Squire in squallid 

weed 
Lamenting sore his sorrowfuU sad tyne, 
With many bitter teares shed from his 

blubbred eyne. 



To whom as they approched, they 
espide 
A sorie sight as ever seene with eye. 
An headlesse Ladie lying him beside 
In her owne blood all wallow 'd wofully, 
That her gay clothes did in discolour 

die. 
Much was he moved at that ruefull sight ; 
And tiara 'd with zeale of vengeance in- 
wardly. 
He askt who had that Dame so fouly 

dight. 
Or whether his owne hand, or whether 
other wight ? 



' Ah ! woe is me, and well-away ! ' (quoth 

bee. 
Bursting forth teares like springs out of a 

banke), 
' That ever I this dismall day did see ! 
Full farre was I from thinking such a 

pranke ; 
Yet litle losse it were, and mickle thanke. 
If I should graunt that I have doen the 

same. 
That I mote drinke the cup whereof she 

dranke, 
But that I should die guiltie of the blame 
The which another did, who now is fled 

with shame.' 

XVI. 

' Who was it then,' (sayd Artegall) * that 
wrought ? 

And why? doe it declare unto me trew.' 

' A knight,' (said he) ' if knight he may 
be thought 

That did his hand in Ladies bloud em- 
brew. 

And for no cause, but as I shall you shew. 

This day as I in solace sate hereby 

With a fay re love, whose losse I now do 
rew. 

There came this knight, having in corn- 
pan ie 

This lucklesse Ladie which now here doth 
- headlesse lie. 






THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



375 



' He, whether mine seem'd fayrer in his 

eye, 
Or that he wexed weary of his owne, 
Would change with me, but I did it 

denye. 
So did the Ladies both, as may be 

knowne : 
But he, whose spirit was with pride up- 

biowue, 
Would not so rest contented with his 

right ; 
But, having from his courser her downe 

throwue, 
Fro me reft mine away by lawlesse 

might. 
And on his steed her set to beare her out 

of sight. 

XVIII. 

'Which when his Ladie saw, she fol- 

low'd fast. 
And on him catching hold gan loud to 

crie 
Not so to leave her, nor away to cast. 
But rather of his hand besought to die. 
With that his sword he drew all wrath- 

fully. 
And at one stroke cropt off her head with 

scorne. 
In that same place whereas it now doth 

lie. 
So he my love away with him hath borne. 
And left me here both his and mine owne 

love to mourne.' 

XIX. 

' Aread' (sayd he) ' which way then did 
he make ? 
And by what markes may he be knowne 

againe?' 
' To hope ' (quoth he) ' him soone to over- 
take 
That hence so long departed, is but 

vaine ; 
Bnt yet he pricked over yonder plaine, 
And, as I marked, bore upon his shield. 
By which it's easie him to know againe, 
A broken sword within a bloodie field : 
Expressing well his nature which the 
same did wield.' 

XX. 

No sooner sayd, but streight he after 

sent 
His yron page, who him pursew'd so 

light, 
As that it seem'd above the ground he 

went; 
For he was swift as swallow in her flight, 
And strong as Lyou in his lordly might. 



It was not long before he overtooke 

Sir Sanglier, (so cleeped was that Knight) 

AVhom at the first he ghessed by his 

looke, 
And by the other markes which of his 

shield he tooke. 



He bad him stay, and backe with him 

retire ; 
Who, full of scorne to be commaunded so. 
The Lady to alight did eft require, 
Whilest he reformed that uncivill fo. 
And streight at him with all his force did 

go; 
Who mov'd no more therewith, then 

when a rocke 
Is lightly stricken with some stones 

throw ; 
But to him leaping lent him such a knocke. 
That on the ground he layd him like a 

sencelesse blocke. 

XXII. 

But, ere he could him selfe recure 

againe. 
Him in his iron paw he seized had ; 
That when he wak't out of his warelesse 

paine. 
He found him selfe unwist so ill bestad. 
That Mm he could not wag : Thence he 

him lad. 
Bound like a beast appointed to the stall : 
The sight whereof the Lady sore adrad, 
And fain'd to fly for feare of being thrall ; 
But he her quickly stayd, and forst to 

wend withall. 

XXIII. 

When to the place they came, where 
Artegall 

By that same carefull Squire did then 
abide. 

He gently gan him to demaund of all 

That did betwixt him and that Squire 
betide : 

Who with .Sterne countenance and indig- 
nant pride 

Did aunswere, that of all he guiltlesse 
stood. 

And his accuser thereuppon defide ; 

For neither he did shed that Ladies blond. 

Nor tooke away his love, but his owne 
proper good. 

XXIV. 

Well did the Squire perceive him selfe 

too weake 
To aunswere his defiaunce in the field, 
And rather chose his challenge off to 

breake. 



376 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Then to approve his right with speare and 

shield, 
And rather guilty chose himselfe to yield : 
But Artegall by signes perceiving plaine 
That he it was not which that Lady kild. 
But that strange Knight, the fairer love 

to gaine, 
Didst cast about by sleight the truth 

thereout to straine ; 



And sayd ; ' Now sure this doubtfuU 

causes right 
Can hardly but by Sacrament be tride, 
Or else by ordele^ or by blooddy fight, 
That ill perhaps mote fall to either side ; 
But if ye please that I your cause decide. 
Perhaps I may all further quarrell end, 
So ye will sweare my judgement to abide.' 
Thereto they both did franckly condi- 

scend, 
And to his doome with listfuU eares did 

both attend. 



' Sith then,' (sayd he) ' ye both the dead 

deny, 
And both the living Lady claime your 

right, 
Let both the dead and living equally 
Devided be betwixt you here in sight, 
And each of either take his share aright : 
But looke, who does dissent from this my 

read. 
He for a twelve moneths day shall in de- 

spight 
Beare for his penaunce that same Ladies 

head, 
To witnesse to the world that she by him 

is dead.' 

XXVII. 

Well pleased with that doome was San- 

gliere, 
And offred streight the Lady to be slaine ; 
But that same Squire, to whom she was 

more dere, 
When as he saw she should be cut in 

twaine, 
Did yield she rather should with him re- 

maine 



Alive, then to him selfe be shared dead; 
And rather then his love should suffer 

paine, 
He chose with shame to beare that Ladies 

head: 
Tr ue lo ve d espise th shame , when life is cald 

in dread. 

XXVIII. 

Whom when so willing Artegall per- 

ceaved ; 
'Not so, thou Squire,' (he sayd) 'but 

thine I deeme 
The living Lady, which from thee he 

reaved, 
For worthy thou of her doest rightly seeme. 
And you. Sir Knight, that love so light 

esteeme, 
As that ye would for little leave the same. 
Take here your owne, that doth you best 

beseeme. 
And with it beare the burden of defame, 
Your owne dead Ladies head, to tell abrode 

your shame.' 



But Sangliere disdained much his doome. 
And sternly gan repine at his beheast ; 
Ne would for ought obay, as did become, 
To beare that Ladies head before his 

breast, 
Until that Talus had his pride reprgst, 
And forced him, maulgre, it up to reare. 
Who when he saw it bootelesse to resist, 
He tooke it up, and thence with him did 

beare. 
As rated Spaniell takes his burden up for 

feare. 

XXX. 

Much did that Squire Sir Artegall adore 
For his great justice, held in high regard, 
And as his Squire him offred evermore 
To serve, for want of other meete reward, 
And wend with him on his adventure hard ; 
But he thereto would by no meanes con- 
sent, 
But leaving him forth on his journey far'd : 
Ne wight with him but onely Talus went ; 
They two enough t' encounter an whole 
Regiment. 



CANTO H. 

Artegall heares of Florimell, 
Does with the Pagan fight : 

Him slaies, drownes Lady Munera, 
Does race her castle quight. 



> Nought is more honorable to a knight, 
I Ne better doth beseeme brave chevalry, 



Then to defend the feeble in their 
And wrong redresse in such a 
awry : 



right 
5 wend 



n 



CANTO II,] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



377 



Whilome those great Heroes got thereby 
Their greatest glory for their rightfull 

deedes, 
And place deserved with the Gods on hy. 
Herein the noblesse of this knight ex- 

ceedes, 
Who now to perils great for justice sake 

proeeedes. 

II. 

To which as he now was uppon the way, 
He chaunst to meet a Dwarfe in hasty 

course, 
Whom he requir'd his forward hast to stay. 
Till he of tidings mote with him discourse. 
Loth was the Dwarfe, yet did he stay per- 

forse, 
And gan of sundry newes his store to tell, 
As to his memory they had recourse ; 
But chiefly of the fairest Florimell, 
How she was found againe, and spousde 

to Mariuell. 

III. 
For this was Dony, Florimels owne 

Dwarfe, 
Whom having lost, (as ye have heard 

whyleare) 
And finding in the way the scattred scarf e. 
The fortune of her life long time did f eare : 
But of her health when Artegall did heare. 
And safe returne, he was full inly glad. 
And askt him where and when her bridale 

cheare 
Should be solemniz'd ; for, if time he had, 
He would be there, and honor to her 

spousal 1 ad. 

IV. 

'Within three dales,' (quoth he) 'as I 

do here, 
It will be at the Castle of the Strond ; 
What time, if naught me let, I will be 

there 
To doe her service so as I am bond : 
But in my way, a little here beyond, 
A cursed cruell Sarazin doth wonne. 
That keepes a Bridges passage by strong 

bond. 
And many errant Knights hath there for- 

donne ; 
That makes all men for feare that passage 

for to shonne.' 



' What mister wight,' (quoth he) ' and 

how far hence 
Is he, that doth to travellers such 

harmes ? ' 
' He is ' (said he) ' a man of great defence, 
Expert in battell and in deedes of armes; 
And more emboldned by the wicked 

charmes, 



With which his daughter doth him still 

support ; 
Having great Lordships got and goodly 

farmes, 
Through strong oppression of his powre 

extort, 
By whifh he stil them holds, and keepes 

with strong effort. 



' And dayly he his wrongs encreaseth 

more ; 
For never wight he lets to passe that way 
Over his Bridge, albee he rich or poore, 
But he him makes his passage-penny pay: 
Else he doth hold him backe orbt^ataway. 
Thereto he hath a groome of evill guize. 
Whose scalp is bare, that bondage doth 

bewray. 
Which pols and pils the poore in piteous 

wize ; 
But he him selfe uppon the rich doth 

tyrannize. 

VII. 

' His name is bight Pollente, rightly so, 
For that he is so puissant and strong, 
That with his powre he all doth overgo. 
And makes them subject to his mighty 

wrong ; 
And some by sleight he eke doth under- 

fong. 
For on a Bridge he custometh to fight. 
Which is but narrow, but exceeding long; 
And in the same are many trap-fals pight, 
Through which the rider downe doth fall 

through oversight. 



' And underneath the same a river 

flowes 
That is both swift and dangerous deepe 

with all; 
Into the which whom so he overthrowes. 
All destitute of belpe doth headlong fall; 
But he him selfe through practise nsuall, 
Leapes forth into the floud, and there 

assaies 
His foe confused through his sodaine fall, 
That horse and man be equally dismaies. 
And either both them drownes, or tray- 

terously slaies. 



' Then doth he take the spoile of them 

at will, 
And to his daughter brings, that dwels 

thereby ; 
Who all that comes doth take, and there- 

Avith fill 
The coffers of her wicked threasury, 



■^■P" 



378 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book V 



AVhich she with wrougs hath heaped up 

so by 
That many Princes she in wealth exceedes, 
And purchast all the countrey lying ny 
With the revenue of her plenteous raeedes : 
Her name is Munera, agreeing with her 

deedes. 

X. 

' Thereto she is full faire, and rich at- 
tired , 
With golden hands and silver feete beside, 
That many Lords have her to wife desired, 
But she them all despiseth for great pride.' 
' Now by my life,' (sayd he) * and God to 

guide. 
None other way will I this day betake, 
But by that Bridge whereas he doth abide : 
Therefore me thither lead.' No more he 

spake, 
But thitherward forthright his ready way 
did make. 

XI. 

Unto the place he came within a while, 
Where on the Bridge he ready armed saw 
The Saraziji, awayting for some spoile : 
When as they to the passage gan to draw, 
A villaine to them came with scull all raw, 
That passage money did of them require, 
According to the custome of their law : 
To whom he aunswerd wroth, 'Loe! there 

thy hire ; ' 
And with that word him strooke, that 

streight he did expii'e. 



Which when the Pagan saw he wexed 

wroth. 
And streight him selfe unto the fight 

addrest, 
Ne was Sir Artegall behiude : so both 
Together ran with ready speares in rest. 
Right in the midst, whereas they brest to 

brest 
Should meete, a trap was letten downe to 

fall 
Into the floud: streight leapt the Carle 

unblest. 
Well weening that his foe was falne witli- 

all; 
But he was well aware, and leapt before 

his fall. 

XIII. 

There being both together in the floud. 
They each at other tyrannously flew; 
Ne ought the M^ater cooled their whot 

blond. 
But rather in them kindled choler new: 
But there the Paynim, who that use well 

knew 
To fight in water, great advantage had. 



That oftentimes him nigh he overthrew: 
And eke the courser whereuppon he rad 
Could swim like to a fish, whiles he his 
backe bestrad. 

XIV. 

Which oddes when as Sir Artegall es- 

pide. 
He saw no way but close with him in hast ; 
And to him driving strongly downe the 

tide 
Uppon his iron coller griped fast, 
That with the straint his wesand nigh he 

brast. 
There they together strove and struggled 

long 
Eitlier the other from his steede to cast ; 
Ne ever Artegall his griple strong 
For any thing wold slacke, but still upon 

him hong. 



As when a Dolphin and a Sele are met 
In the widechampian of the Ocean plaine, 
With cruell chaufe their courages they 

whet. 
The maysterdome of each by force to 

gaine. 
And dreadfull battaile twixt them do 

darraine : 
They snuf, they snort, they bounce, they 

rage, they rore, 
That all the sea, disturbed with their 

traine. 
Doth f rie with f ome above the surges hore, 
Such was betwixt these two the trouble- 
some uprore. 



So Artegall at length him forst forsake 
His horses backe for dread of being 

drownd. 
And to his handy swimming him betake. 
Eftsoones him selfe he from his hold un- 

bownd. 
And then no ods at all in him he fownd ; 
For Artegall in swimming skilfull was. 
And durst the depth of any M^ater sownd. 
So ought each Knight, that use of perill 

has. 
In swimming be expert, through waters 

force to pas. 

XVII. 

Then very doubtfull was the warres 
event, 
Uncertaine whether had the better side ; 
For both were skild in that experiment. 
And both in armes well traind, and 

throughly tride : 
But Artegall was better breath'd beside, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



379 



And towards th' end grew greater in his 

might, 
That his faint foe no longer could abide 
His puissance, ne beare him selfe upright ; 
But from the water to the land betooke 

his flight. 

XVIII. 

But Artegall pursewd him still so neare 
With bright Chrysaor in his cruell hand. 
That as his head he gau a litle reare 
Above the Inincke to tread upon the laud, 
He smote it off, that tumbling on the 

strand 
It bit the earth for very fell despight, 
And gnashed with his teeth, as if he band 
High God, whose goodnesse he despaired 

quight, 
Or curst the hand which did that ven- 
geance on him dight. 



His corps was carried downe along the 

Lee, 
Whose waters with his filthy bloud it 

stayned ; 
But his blasphemous head, that all might 

see, 
He pitcht upon a pole on high ordayned ; 
Wliere many years it afterwards re- 

mayned, 
To be a mirrour to all mighty men. 
In whose right hands great power is con- 

tayned. 
That none of them the feeble over-ren. 
But alwaies doe their powre within just 

compasse pen. 

XX. 

That done, unto the Castle he did wend, 
In which the Paynims daughter did abide. 
Guarded of many which did her defend : 
Of whom he entrance sought, but was 

denide. 
And with reprochfull blasphemy defide, 
Beaten with stones downe from the battil- 

ment, 
That he was forced to withdi'aw aside, 
And bad his servant Talus to invent 
Which way he enter might without en- 

dangerment. 



Eftsoones his Page drew to the Castle 
gate, 
And with his iron flale at it let flie, 
That all the warders it did sore amate, 
The which erewhile spake so reprochfully , 
And made them stoupe that looked earst 

so hie. 
Yet still he bet and bounst uppon the dore, 



And thundred strokes thereon so hide- 

ouslie. 
That all the peece he shaked from the 

flore, 
And filled all the house with feare and 

great uprore. 



With noise whereof the Lady forth ap- 
peared 

Uppon the Castle wall ; and , when she saw 

The daungerous state in which she stood, 
she feared 

The sad effect of her neare overthrow ; 

And gan entreat that iron man below 

To cease his outrage, and him faire be- 
sought ; 

Sith neither force of stones which they 
did throw, 

Nor powr of charms, which she against 
him wrought, 

Might otherwise prevaile, or make him 
cease for ought. 



But, when as yet she saw him to pro- 

ceede 
Unmov'd with praiers or with piteous 

thought, 
She ment him to corrupt with goodly 

meede ; 
And causde great sackes with endlesse 

riches fraught 
Unto the battilment to be upbrought, 
And powred forth over the Castle wall. 
That she might win some lime, though 

dearly bought, 
Whilest he to gathering of the gold did 

fall: 
But he was nothing mov'd nor tempted 

therewithall : 

XXIV. 

But still continu'd his assault the more. 
And layd on load with his huge yron flaile. 
That at the length he has yrent the dore. 
And made way for his maister to assailo ; 
Who being entred, nought did them availe 
For wighl: against his powre them selves 

to reare. 
Each one did flie ; their hearts began to 

faile. 
And hid them selves in corners here and 

there ; 
And eke their dame halfe dead did hide 

her self for feare. 

XXV. 

Long they her sought, yet no where 
could they finde her, 



SSo 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



That sure they ween'd she was escapt 
away ; 

But Talus, that could like a lime-hound 
winde her, 

And all things secrete wisely could be- 
wray. 

At length found out whereas she hidden 
lay 

Under an heape of gold. Thence he her 
drew 

By the faire lockes, and fowly did array 

"Withouten pitty of her goodly hew, 

That Artegall him selfe her seemelesse 
plight did rew. 

XXVI. 

Yet for no pitty would he change the 
course 

Of Justice, which in Talus hand did lye ; 

"Who rudely hayld her forth without re- 
morse, 

Still holding up her suppliant hands on 
hye, 

And kneeling at his feete submissively : 

But he her suppliant hands, those hands 
of gold, 

And eke her feete, those feete of silver 
trye, 

Which sought unrighteousnesse, and jus- 
tice sold, 

Chopt off, and nayld on high that all 
might them behold. 

XXVII. 

Her selfe then tooke he by the sclender 

wast, 
In vaine loud crying, and into the flood 
Over the Castle wall adowne her cast. 
And there her drowned in the durty mud ; 
But the strearae washt away her guilty 

blood. 
Thereafter all that mucky pelfe he tooke, 
The spoile of peoples evil gotten good. 
The which her sire had scrap't by hooke 

and crooke, 
And bvirning all to ashes powr'd it downe 

the brooke. 

XXVIII. 

And lastly all that Castle quite he raced, 
Even from the sole of his foundation, 
And all the hewen stones thereof defaced, 
That there mote be no hope of reparation, 
Nor memory thereof to any nation. 
All which when Talus throughly had per- 

fourmed, 
Sir Artegall undid the evill fashion, 
And wicked customes of that Bridge re- 

fourmed ; 
Which done, unto his former journey he 

retourned : 



In which they measur'd mickle weary 
way, 

Till that at length nigh to the sea they 
drew ; 

By which as they did travell on a day, 

They saw before them, far as they could 
vew, 

Full many people gathered in a crew ; 

Whose great assembly they did much ad- 
mire, 

For never there the like resort they 
knew. 

So towardes them they coasted, to enquire 

What thing so many nations met did there 
desire. 

XXX. 

There they beheld a mighty Gyant stand 
Upon a rocke, and holding forth on hie 
An huge great paire of ballance in his 

hand. 
With which he boasted, in his surquedrie, 
That all the world he would weigh equallie, 
If ought he had the same to counterpoys ; 
For want whereof he weighed vanity, 
And fild his ballaunce full of idle toys : 
Yet was admired much of fooles, women, 

and boys. 

XXXI. 

He sayd that he would all the earth up- 
take 
And all the sea, divided each from either: 
So would he of the lire one ballaunce 

make. 
And one of th' ayre, without or wind or 

wether: 
Then would he ballaunce heaven and hell 

together, 
And all that did within them all containe, 
Of all whose weight he would not misse a 

f ether : 
And looke what surplus did of each re- 

maine. 
He would to his owne part restore the 

same againe: 

XXXII. 

For-why, he sayd, they all unequall 

were, 
And had encroched upon others share : 
Like as the sea (which plaine he shewed 

there) 
Had worne the earth ; so did the fire the 

aire ; 
So all the rest did others parts empaire. 
And so were realmes and nations run 

awry. 
All which "he undertooke for to repaire, 
In sort as they were formed aunciently. 
And all things would reduce unto equality. 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



381 



Therefore the vulgar did about him 
flocke, 
And cluster thicke unto his leasings value, 
Like foolish flies about an hony-crocke ; 
In hope by hiui great benetite to gaine, 
And uncontrolled freedome to obtaine. 
All which when Artegall did see and heare, 
How he mis-led the simple peoples traine, 
In sdeignfull wize he drew unto him neare, 
And thus unto him spake, without regard 
or feare. 

XXXIV. 

' Thou that presum'st to weigh the world 
anew, 
And all things to an equall to restore, 
Instead of right me seemes great wrong- 
dost shew. 
And far above thy forces pitch to sore ; 
For ere thou limit what is lesse or more 
In every thing, thou oughtest first to know 
What was the poyse of every part of 

yore : 
And looke then how much it doth over- 
flow 
Or faile thereof, so much is more then just 
to trow. 

XXXV. 

* For at the first they all created were 
In goodly measure by their Makers might ; 
And weighed out in ballaunces so nere. 
That not a dram was missing of their 

right : 
The earth was in the middle centre pight. 
In which it doth immoveable abide, 
Hemd in with waters like a wall in sight. 
And they with aire, that not a drop can 

slide: 
Al which the heavens containe, and in 

their courses guide. 

XXXVI. 

' Such heavenly justice doth among them 

raine, 
That every one doe know their certaine 

bound. 
In which they doe these many yeares re- 

maine. 
And mongst them al no change hath yet 

beene found ; 
But if thou now shouldst weigh them new 

in pound, 
We are not sure they would so long re- 
main e : 
All change is perillous, and all chaunce 

unsound. 
Therefore leave off to weigh them all 

againe, 
Till we may be assur'd they shall their 

course retaine.' 



' Thou foolishe Elfe,' (said then the Gy- 

ant wroth) 
' Seest not how badly all things present 

bee, 
And each estate quite out of order gotlr? 
The sea it selfe doest thou not plainely see 
Encroch uppon the land there under thee ? 
And th' earth it selfe how daily its increast 
By all that dying to it turned' be : 
Were it not good that wrong were then 

surceast. 
And from the most that some were given 

to the least? 



'Therefore I will throw downe these 

mountaines hie, 
And make them levell with the lowly 

plaiue ; 
These towring rocks, which reach unto 

the skie, 
I will thrust downe into the deepest maine, 
And, as they were, them equalize againe. 
Tyrants, that make men subject to their 

law, 
I will suppresse, that they no more may 

raine; 
And Lordingscurbe that commons over-aw. 
And all the wealth of rich men to the poore 

will draw." 



' Of things unseene how canst thou deeme 

aright,' 
Then answered the righteous Artegall, 
' Sith thou misdeem'st so much of things 

in sight? 
What though the sea with waves coutinu- 

all 
Doe eate the earth, it is no more at all ; 
Ne is the earth the lesse, or loseth ought, 
For whatsoever from one place doth fall 
Is with the tide unto another brought: 
For there is nothing lost, that may be 

found if sought. 



* Likewise the earth is not augmented 

more 
By all that dying into it doe fade; 
For of the earth they formed were of yore : 
How ever gay their blossfeme or their 

blade 
Doe flourish now, they into dust shall vade. 
What wrong then is it, if that when they 

die 
They turne to that whereof they first were 

made? 
All in the powre of their great Maker lie : 



382 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



All creatures must obey the voice of the 
Most Hie. 

XLI. 

* They live, they die, like as he doth or- 

daine, 
Ne ever any asketh reason why. 
The hils doe not the lowly dales disdaine, 
The dales doe not the lofty hils envy. 
He maketh Kings to sit in soverainty; 
He maketh subjects to their powre obay ; 
He pulleth downe, he setteth up on by; 
He gives to this, from that he takes away. 
For all we have is his : what he list doe, 

he may. 

XLII. 

' What ever thing is done by him is 
donne, 
Ne any may his mighty will withstand ; 
Ne any may his soveraine power shonne, 
Ne loose that he hath bound with stedfast 

band. 
In vaine therefore doest thou now take in 

hand 
To call to count, or weigh his workes anew, 
Whose counsels depth thou canst not un- 
derstand ; 
Sith of things subject to thy daily vew 
Thou doest not know the causes, nor their 
courses dew. 

XLIII. 

'For take thy ballaunce, if thou be so 

wise. 
And weigh the winde that under heaven 

doth bloAV ; 
Or weigh the light that in the East doth 

rise; 
Or weigh the thought that from mans 

mind doth flow: 
But if the weight of these thou canst not 

show, 
Weigh but one word which from thy lips 

doth fall : 
For how canst thou those greater secrets 

know. 
That doest not know the least thing of 

them all? 
Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach 

the small.' 

XLIV. 

Therewith the Gyant much abashed 

sayd. 
That he of little things made reckoning 

light; 
Yet the least word that ever could be layd 
Within his ballaunce he could way aright. 
' Which is ' (sayd he) ' more heavy then 

in weight, 
The right or wrong, the false or else the 

trew ? ' 



He answered that he would try it streight ; 
So he the words into his ballaunce threw, 
But streight the winged words out of his 
ballaunce flew. 



Wroth wext he then, and sayd that 

words were light, 
Ne would within his ballaunce well abide : 
But he could justly weigh the wrong or 

right. 
' Well then,' sayd Artegall, ' let it be tride : 
First in one ballance set the true aside.' 
He did so first, and then the false he layd 
In th' other scale; but still it downe did 

slide. 
And by no meane could in the weight be 

stayd ; 
For by no meanes the false will with the 

truth be wayd. 

XLVI. 

'Now take the right likewise,' sayd 

Artegale, 
' And counterpeise the same with so much 

wrong.' 
So first the right he put into one scale, 
And then the Gyant strove with puissance 

strong 
To fill the other scale with so much wrong ; 
But all the wrongs that he therein could 

lay 
Might not it peise ; yet did he labour long, 
And swat, and chauf'd, and proved every 

way: 
Yet all the wrongs could not a litle right 

downe way. 

XLVII. 

Which when he saw he greatly grew in 

rage. 
And almost would his balances have 

broken ; 
But Artegall him fairely gan asswage. 
And said, ' Be not upon thy balance 

wroken, 
For they doe nought but right or wrong 

betoken ; 
But in the mind the doome of right must 

bee: 
And so likewise of words, the which be 

spoken, 
The eare must be the ballance, to decree 
And judge, whether with truth or fals- 

hood they agree. 



' But set the truth and set the right 
aside. 
For they with wrong or falshood will not 
fare, 



CANTO II,] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



3^3 



And put two wrongs together to be tride, 
Or else two falses, of each equall share, 
And then together doe them both compare ; 
For truth is one, and right is ever one.' 
So did he ; and then plaine it did appeare, 
Whether of them the greater were attone ; 
But right sate in the middest of the beame 
alone. 

XLIX. 

But he the right from thence did thrust 

away. 
For it was not the right which he did 

seeke, 
But rather strove extremities to way, 
Th' one to diminish, th' other for to eeke; 
For of the meane he greatly did misleeke. 
Whom when so lewdly minded Talus 

found , 
Approchiug nigh unto him, cheeke by 

cheeke, 
He shouldered him from off the higher 

ground. 
And, down the rock him throwing, in the 

sea him dround. 



Like as a ship, whom cruell tempest 

drives 
Upon a rocke with horrible dismay, 
Her shattered ribs in thousand peeces 

rives. 
And spoyling all her geares and goodly ray 
Does make her selfe misfortunes piteous 

pray. 
So downe the cliffe the wretched Gyant 

tumbled ; 
His battred ballances in peeces lay. 
His timbered bones all broken rudely 

rumbled : 
So was the high-aspyring with huge mine 

humbled. 

LI. 

That when the people, which had there 

about 
Long way ted, saw his sudden desolation. 
They gan to gather in tumultuous rout, 
And mutining to stirre up civill faction 
For certaine losse of so great expectation : 
For well they hoped to have got great 

good, 
And wondrous riches by his innovation. 



Therefore resolving to revenge his blood 
They rose in armes, and all in battell order 
stood. 

LII. 

Which lawlesse multitude him commiug 

too 
In warlike wise when Artegall did vew, 
He much was troubled, ne wist what to 

doo: 
For loth he was his noble hands t' embrew 
In the base blood of such a rascall crew ; 
And otherwise, if that he should retire, 
He fear'd least they with shame would him 

pursew : 
Therefore he Talus to them sent t' inquire 
The cause of their array, and truce for to 

desire. 

LIII. 

But soone as they him nigh approching 

spide. 
They gan with all their weapons him 

assay. 
And rudely stroke at him on every side ; 
Yet nought they could him hurt, ne ought 

dismay : 
But when at them he with his flaile gan 

lay, 
He like a swarme of fiyes them overthrew ; 
Ne any of them durst come in his way. 
But here and there before his presence 

flew, 
And hid themselves in holes and bushes 

from his vew. 

LIV. 

As when a Faulcon hath with nimble 

flight 
Flowne at a flush of Ducks foreby the 

brooke, 
The trembling foule dismayd with dread- 
full sight 
Of death, the which them almost over- 

tooke, 
Doe hide themselves from her astonying 

looke 
Amongst the flags and covert round about. 
When Talus saw they all the field for- 

sooke. 
And none appear'd of all that raskall rout, 
To Artegall he turn'd and went with him 

throughout. 



384 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



CANTO III. 

The spousals of faire Floriraell, 
Where turney many knights 

There Braggadochio is uncas'd 
In all the Ladies sights. 



I. 



After long stormes and tempests over- 

blowne 
The sunue at length his joyous face doth 

cleare : 
So when as fortune all her spight hath 

shown e, 
Some blisfull houres at last must needes 

appeare ; 
Else should afflicted wights oftimes de- 

speire: 
So comes it now to Florimell by tourne, 
After long sorrowes suffered whyleare, 
In which captiv'd she many moneths did 

mourne, 
To tast of joy, and to wont pleasures to 

retourne. 

II. 

Who being freed from Proteus cruell 
band 
By Marinell was unto him affide, 
And by him brought againe to Faerie land, 
Where he her spous'd, and made his joy- 
ous bride. 
The time and place was blazed farre and 

wide. 
And solemne feasts and giusts ordaiu'd 

therefore : 
To which there did resort from every side 
Of Lords and Ladies infinite great store ; 
Ne any Knight was absent that brave 
courage bore. 



To tell the glorie of the feast that day, 
The goodly service, the devicefull sights, 
The bridegromes state, the brides most 

rich aray, 
The pride of Ladies, and the worth of 

knights, 
The royall banquets, and the rare delights, 
Were worke fit for an Heranld, not for me : 
But for so much as to my lot hero liglits. 
That with this present treatise doth agree, 
True vertue to advance, shall here re- 
counted bee. 

IV. 

When all men had with full satietie 
Of meates and drinkes their appetites 

siitfiz'd, 
Todeedes of armesand proofe of chevalrie 



They gan themselves addresse, full rich 

aguiz'd 
As each one had his furnitures deviz'd. 
And first of all issu'd Sir Marinell, 
And with him sixe knights more, which 

enterpriz'd 
To chalenge all in right of Florimell, 
And to niaintaine that she all others did 

excell. 

V. 

The first of them was bight Sir Orimont, 
A noble Knight, and tride in hard assayes ; 
The second had to name Sir Bellisont, 
But second unto none in prowesse prayse ; 
The third was Brunell, famous in his 

dayes ; 
The fourth Ecastor, of exceeding might ; 
The fift Armeddan, skild in lovely layes; 
The sixt was Lansack, a redoubted 

Knight ; 
All sixe well-seene in armes, and prov'd 

in many a fight. 



And them against came all that list to 

giust, 
From every coast and countrie under 

sunne : 
None was debard, but all had leave that 

lust. 
The trompets sound, then all together 

ronne. 
Full many deeds of armes that day were 

donne. 
And many knights unhorst, and many 

wounded. 
As fortune fell; yet little lost or wonne: 
But all that day the greatest praj'se 

redounded 
To Marinell, whose name the Heralds loud 

resounded. 

VII. 

The second day, so soone as morrow light 
Appear'd in heaven, into the field they 

came. 
And there all day continew'd cruell fight, 
With divers fortune fit for such a game. 
In which all strove with perill to winne 

fame ; 
Yet whether side was victor note be ghest : 
But at the last the trompets did proclame 
That Marinell that day deserved best. 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



385 



So they disparted were, and all meu went 
to rest. 

VIII. 

The third day came, that should due 

tryall lend 
Of all the rest ; and then this warlike crew 
Together met of all to make an end. 
There Marinell great deeds of amies did 

shew, 
And through the thickest like a Lyon flew, 
Rashing off helmes, and ryving plates 

asonder, 
That every one his daunger did eschew : 
So terribly his deadfull strokes did thon- 

der. 
That all meu stood amaz'd, and at his 

might did wonder. 



But what on earth can alwayes happie 
stand ? 
The greater prowesse greater perils find. 
Sofarrehepast amongst his enemies baud. 
That they have him enclosed so beliind, 
As by no meanes he can himselfe outwind : 
And now perforce they have him prisoner 

taken ; 
And now they doe with captive bands him 

bind ; 
And now they lead him thence, of all for- 
saken, 
Unlesse some succour had in time him 
overtaken. 



It fortun'd, whylest they were thus ill 

beset, 
Sir Artegall into the Tilt-yard came, 
"With Braggadochio, whom he lately met 
Upon the way with that his snowy Dame : 
Where when he understood by common 

fame 
What evil hap to Marinell betid, 
He much was mov'd at so unworthie 

shame. 
And streight that boaster prayd, with 

whom he rid. 
To change his shield with him, to be the 

better hid. 

XI. 

So forth he went, and soone them over- 

hent. 
Where they were leading Marinell away; 
Whom he assayld with dreadlesse hardi- 

ment. 
And forst the burden of their prize to 

stay. 
They were an hundred knights of that 

array, 
Of which th' one halfe upon himselfe did 

set, 



The other stayd beliind to gard the pray : 
But he ere long the former fiftie bet. 
And from the other fiftie soone the pris- 
oner fet. 

XII. 

So backe he brought SirMarinell againe ; 
Whom having quickly arni'd againe anew, 
They both together joyned might and 

maine, 
To set afresh on all the other crew : 
Whom with sore havocke soone they over- 
threw. 
And chaced quite out of the field, that 

none 
Against them durst his head to peril 1 

shew. 
So were they left Lords of the field alone : 
So Marinell by him was rescu'd from his 
foue. 

XIII. 

Which when he had perform'd, then 
backe againe 

To Braggadochio did his shield restore ; 

Who all this while behind him did re- 
main e, 

Keeping there close with him in pretious 
store 

That his false Ladie, as ye heard afore. 

Then did the trompets sound, and Judges 
rose, 

And all these knights, which that day 
armour bore, 

Came to the open hall to listen whose 

The honour of the prize should be ad- 
judg'd by those. 



And thether also came in open sight 
Fay re Florimell, into the common hall. 
To greet his guerdon unto every knight. 
And best to him to whom the best should 

fall. 
Then for that stranger knight they loud 

did call. 
To whom that day they should the girlond 

yield, 
Who came not forth ; but for Sir Artegall 
Came Braggadochio, and did shew his 

shield,' 
Which bore the Sunne brode blazed in a 

golden field. 

XV. 

The sight whereof did all with gladnesse 

fill: 
So unto him they did addeeme the prise 
Of all that Tryuniph. Then the trompets 

shrill 
Don Braggadochios name resounded 

thrise : 
So courage lent a cloke to cowardise. 



386 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And then to him came fayrest Florimell, 
And goodly gan to greet his brave emprise, 
And thousand thankes him yeeld, that 

had so well 
Approv'd that day that she all others did 

excell. 

XVI. 

To whom the boaster, that all knights 

did blot 
With proud disdaiue did scornefull an- 

swere make. 
That what he did that day, he did it not 
For her, but for his owne deare Ladies 

sake, 
Whom on his perill he did undertake 
Both her and eke all others to excell : 
And further did uncomely speaches crake. 
Much did his words the gentle Ladie 

quell, 
And turu'd aside for shame to heare what 

he did tell. 

XVII. 

Then forth he brought his snowy Flori- 
mele, 

Whom Trompart had in keeping there be- 
side, 

Covered from peoples gazement with a 
vele: 

Whom when discovered they had throughly 
eide. 

With great amazement they were stupe- 
tide; 

And said, that surely Florimell it was. 

Or if it were not Florimell so tride, 

That Florimell her selfe she then did pas. 

So feeble skill of perfect things the vulgar 
has. 

XVIII. 

Which when as Marinell beheld like- 
wise, 
He was therewith exceedingly dismayd, 
Ne wist he what to thinke, or to devise ; 
But, like as one whom feends had made 

affrayd. 
He long astonisht stood, ne ought he sayd, 
Ne ought he did, but with fast fixed eies 
He gazed still upon that snowy mayd ; 
Whom ever as he did the more avize, 
The more to be true Florimell he did sur- 
mize. 

xix. 

As when two sunnes appeare in the 

asure skye. 
Mounted in Phoebus charet fierie bright. 
Both darting forth faire beames to each 

mans eye. 
And both adorn 'd with lampes of flaming 

light; 
All that behold so strange prodigious 

sight, 



Not knowing natures worke, nor what to 

weene. 
Are rapt with wonder and with rare 

affright. 
So stood Sir Marinell, when he had seene 
The semblaut of this false by his faire 

beauties Queene. 



All which when Artegall, who all this 

while 
Stood in the preasse close covered, well 

advewed, 
And saw that boasters pride and grace- 

lesse guile, 
He could no longer beare, but forth is- 

sewed. 
And unto all himself e there open shewed, 
And to the boaster said ; ' Thou losell 

base, 
That hast with borrowed plumes thy selfe 

endewed, 
And others worth with leasings doest de- 
face. 
When they are all restor'd thou shalt rest 

in disgrace. 

XXI. 

' That shield, which thou doest beare, 
was it indeed 

Which this dayes honour sav'd to Mari- 
nell: 

But not that arme, nor thou the man, I 
reed. 

Which didst that service unto Florimell. 

For proof e shew forth thy sword, and let 
it tell 

What strokes, what dreadfull stoure, it 
stird this day ; 

Or shew the wounds which unto thee be- 
fell; 

Or shew the sweat with which thou did- 
dest sway 

So sharpe a battell, that so many did 
dismay. 

XXII. 

* But this the sword which wrought 
those cruell stounds. 

And this the arme the which that shield 
did beare, 

And these the signs ' (so shewed forth his 
wounds) 

' By which that glorie gotten doth ap- 
peare. 

As for this Ladie, which he sheweth here, 

Is not (I wager) Florimell at all; 

But some fayre Franion, fit for such a 
fere. 

That by misfortune in his hand did fall.' 

For proofe whereof he bad them Flori- 
mell forth call. 



CANTO 111.] 



THE FAERIE QUEExNE. 



387 



So forth the noble Ladie was ybrought, 
Adorn'd with honor and all comely grace : 
Whereto her bashful shamefastnesse 

y wrought 
A great increase in her faire blushing 

lace, 
As roses did with lilies interlace ; 
For of those words, the which that boaster 

threw, 
She inly yet conceived great disgrace : 
W^hom when as all the people such did 

vew, 
They shouted loud, and signes of glad- 

nesse all did shew. 



Then did he set her by that snowy one, 
Like the true saint beside the image set. 
Of both their beauties to make paragoue 
And triall, whether should the honor get. 
Streight-way, so soone as both together 

met, 
Th' enchaunted Damzell vanisht into 

nought : 
Her snowy substance melted as with heat, 
Ne of that goodly hew remayned ought, 
But th' emptie girdle which about her 

wast was wrought. 



As when the daughter of Thaumantes 

faire 
Hath in a watry cloud displayed wide 
Her goodly bow, which paints the liquid 

ay re, 
That all men wonder at her colours pride ; 
All suddenly, ere one can looke aside, 
The glorious picture vanisheth away, 
Ne any token doth thereof abide : 
So did this Ladies goodly forme decay. 
And into nothing goe, ere one could it 

bewray. 

XXVI. 

Which when as all that present were 
beheld. 
They stricken were with great astonish- 
ment, 
And their faint harts with senselesse hor- 

rour queld, 
To see the thing, that seem'd so excellent. 
So stolen from their fancies wonderment 
That what of it became none understood : 
And Braggadochio selfe with dreriment 
So daunted was in his despeyring mood, 
That like a lifelesse corse immoveable he 
stood. 

XXVII. 

But Artegall that golden belt uptooke, 
The which of all her spoyle was onely left ; 



Which was not hers, as many it mistooke, 
But Florimells owne girdle, from her 

reft 
While she was flying, like a weary weft, 
From that foule monster which did her 

compel 
To perils great; which he unbuckling 

eft 
Presented to the fayrest Florimell, 
Who round about her tender wast it fitted 

well. 

XXVIII. 

Full many Ladies often had assayd 
About their middles that faire belt to 

knit ; 
And many a one suppos'd to be a mayd : 
Yet it to none of all their loynes would 

fit. 
Till Florimell about her fastned it. 
Such power it had , that to no womans wast 
By any skill or labour it would sit, 
Unlesse that she were continent and chast, 
But it would lose or breake, that many had 

disgrast. 

XXIX. 

Whilst thus they busied were bout Flori- 
mell, 
And boastfull Braggadochio to defame, 
Sir Guyon, as by fortune then befell. 
Forth from the thickest preasse of people 

came. 
His owne good steed, which he had stolne, 

to dame; 
And th' one hand seizing on his golden bit, 
With th' other drew his sword ; for with 

the same 
He ment the thief e there deadly to havull 

smit : 
And, had he not bene held, he nought hzells 
fayld of it. 

XXX. 'heir 

Thereof great hurly-burly moved Wc,. 

Throughout the hall for that same warlik^''" 
horse ; 

For Braggadochio would not let him pas, 

And Guyon would him algates have per- 
iorse. 

Or it approve upon his carrion corse. 

Which troublous stirre when Artegall per- 
ceived. 

He nigh them drew to stay th' avengers 
forse. 

And gan inquire how was that steed be- 
reaved, 

Whether by might extort, or else by slight 
deceaved ? 

XXXI. 

Who all that piteous storie, which befell 
About that wcfuU couple which were 
slaine, 



388 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And their young bloodie babe to him gan 

tell; 
With whom whiles he did in the wood re- 

maine, 
His horse purloyned was by subtill traine, 
For which he chalenged the thiefe to fight : 
But he for nought could him thereto con- 

straine ; 
For as the death he hated such despight, 
And rather had to lose then trie in armes 

his right. 

xxxn. 

Which Artegall well hearing, (though 

no more 
By law of armes there neede ones right to 

trie, 
As was the won t of warlike knights of yore , 
Then that his foe should him the field 

d'enie,) 
Yet, further right by tokens to descrie, 
He askt what privie tokens he did beare? 
' If that ' (said Guyon) ' may you satisfie. 
Within his mouth a blacke spot doth ap- 

peare, 
Shapt like a horses shoe, who list to seeke 

it there.' 

XXXIII. 

Whereof to make due tryall, one did take 
The horse in hand within his mouth to 

looke: 
But with his heeles so sorely he him strake. 
That all his ribs he quite in peeces broke, 
That never word from that day forth he 

spoke. 
, Another, that would seeme to have more 
wit, 
im by the bright embrodered hed-stall 
tooke ; 
by the shoulder him so sore he bit. 
Wit he him maymed quite, and all his 
shoulder split. 

Hr 

XXXIV. 

Ne he his mouth would open unto wight, 
Untill that Guyon selfe unto him spake. 
And called Brigadore, (so was he hight,) 
Whose voice so soone as he did undertake, 
Eftsoones he stood as still as any stake. 
And suffred all his secret marke to see : 
And, when as he him nam'd, for joy he 

brake 
His bands, and follow'd him with gladfull 

glee. 
And friskt, andflong aloft, and louted low 

on knee. 

XXXV. 

Thereby Sir Artegall did plaine areed 
That unto him the horse belong'd, and 

sayd; 
' Lo there ! Sir Guyon, take to youthe steed. 



Sc 



As he with golden saddle is arayd, 

And let that losell, plainely now displayd. 

Hence fare on foot, till he an horse have 

gayned.' 
But the proud boaster gan his doome up- 

brayd. 
And him revil'd, and rated, and disdayned. 
That judgement so unjust against him 

had ordayned. 



Much was the knight incenst with his 

lewd word 
To have revenged that his villeny; 
And thrise did lay his hand upon his 

sword. 
To have him slaine, or dearely doen aby : 
But Guyon did his choler pacify, 
Saying, ' Sir knight, it would dishonour 

bee 
To you that are our judge of equity. 
To wreake your wrath on such a carle as 

hee: 
It's punishment enough that all his shame 

doe see.' 

XXXVII. 

So did he mitigate Sir Artegall ; 
But Talus by the backe the boaster hent. 
And drawing him out of the open hall 
Upon him did inflict this punishment: 
First he his beard did shave, and fowly 

shent. 
Then from him reft his shield, and it ren- 

verst, 
And blotted out his armes with falshood 

blent. 
And himselfe baifuld, and his armes un- 

herst. 
And broke his sword in twaine, and all his 

armour sperst. 

XXXVIII. 

The whiles his guilef uU groome was fled 

away. 
But value it was to thinke from him to 

flie; 
Who overtaking him did disaray. 
And all his face deform'd with infamie, 
And out of court him scourged openly. 
So ought all fay tours that true knighthood 

shame, 
And armes dishonour with base villanie. 
From all brave knights be banisht with 

defame ; 
For oft their lewdnes blottethgood deserts 

with blame. 



Now when these counterfeits were thus 
uncased 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



389 



Out of the fore-side of their forgerie, 
And in the sight of all men cleane dis- 



All gan to jest and gibe full merilie 
At the remembrance of their knaverie : 
Ladies can laugh at Ladies, Knights at 

Knights, 
To thinke with how great vaunt of braverie 
He them abused through his subtill slights, 
And what a glorious shew he made in all 

their sights. 

XL. 

There leave we them in pleasure and 
repast, 



Spending their joyous dayes and gladfull 
nights, 

And taking usurie of time fore-past. 

With all deare delices and rare delights, 

Fit for such Ladies and such lovely 
knights; 

And turne we here to this faire furrowes 
end 

Our wearie yokes, to gather fresher 
sprights. 

That, when as time to Artegall shall 
tend. 

We on his first adventure may him for- 
ward send. 



■ CANTO TV. 

Artegall dealeth right betwixt 
Two brethren that doe strive : 

Saves Terpine from the gallow tree, 
And doth from death reprive. 



Whoso upon him selfe will take the skill 
True Justice unto people to divide. 
Had neede have mightie hands for to ful- 
fill 
That which he doth with righteous doome 

decide. 
And for to maister wrong and puissant 

pride : 
For vaine it is to deeme of things aright, 
And makes wrong doers justice to deride, 
Unlesse it be perform'd with dreadlesse 

might ; 
For powre is the right hand of Justice 
truly bight. 

II. 

Therefore whylome to knights of great 
emprise 
The charge of Justice given was in trust. 
That they might execute her judgements 

wise. 
And with their might beat downe licen- 
tious lust. 
Which proudly did impugne her sentence 

just: 
Whereof no braver president this day 
Remaines on earth, preserv'd from yron 

rust 
Of rude oblivion and long times decay, 
Then this of Artegall, which here we have 
to say. 

in. 

Who having lately left that lovely pay re, 
Enlincked fast in wedlockes loyall bond. 
Bold Marinell with Floriniell the fayre. 
With wliom great feast and goodly glee he 

fond. 
Departed from the Castle of the Strond 



To follow his adventures first intent. 
Which long agoe he taken had in bond : 
Ne wight with him for his assistance went, 
But that great yron groome, his gard and 
government. 



With whom, as he did passe by the sea 

shore, 
He chaunst to come whereas two comely 

Squires, 
Both brethren, whom one wombe together 

bore. 
But stirred up with different desires. 
Together strove, and kindled wrathfull 

fires: 
And them beside two seemely damzells 

stood. 
By all meanes seeking to asswage their 

ires ; 
Now with faire words, but words did lit- 
tle good, 
Now with sharpe threats, but threats the 

more increast their mood. 



And there before them stood a Coffer 

strong 
Fast bound on every side with iron bands, 
But seeming to have suffred mickle 

wrong. 
Either by being wreckt uppon the sands. 
Or being carried farre from forraine lands. 
Seem'd that for it these Squires at ods 

did fall. 
And bent against them selves their cruell 

hands ; 
But evermore those Damzells did forestall 



390 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Their furious encounter, and tlieir fierce- 
nesse pall. 

VI. 

But firmely fixt they were with dint of 

sword 
And battailes doubtf ull proof e their rights 

to try, 
Ne other end their fury would afford, 
But what to them Fortune would justify: 
So stood they both iu readinesse thereby 
To joyue the combate with cruell intent, 
AVhen Artegall, arriving happily, 
Did stay a while their greedy biokerment, 
Till he had questioned the cause of their 

dissent. 

VII. 

To whome the elder did this aunswere 
frame : 
* Then weete ye, Sir, that we two breth- 
ren be. 
To whom our sire, Milesio by name, 
Did equally bequeath his lands in fee. 
Two Hands, which ye there before you 

see 
Not farre in sea; of which the one ap- 

peares 
But like a little Mount of small degree. 
Yet was as great and wide, ere many 

yeares, 
As that same other Isle, that greater 
bredth now beares. 

VIII. 

'But tract of time, that all things doth 

decay, 
And this devouring Sea, that naught doth 

spare, 
The most part of my land hath washt 

away. 
And throwne it up unto my brothers share : 
So his encreased, but mine did empaire. 
Before which time I lov'd, as was my lot. 
That fui-ther mayd, hight Philtera the 

faire. 
With whom a goodly doure I should have 

sot, 
And should have joyned bene to her in 

wedlocks knot. 



* Then did my younger brother, Amidas, 
Love that same other Damzell, Lucy 

bright. 
To whom but little dowre allotted was : 
Her vertue was the dowre that did de- 
light. 
What better dowre can to a dame be hight ? 
But now, when Philtra saw my lands de- 
cay 



And former livelod fayle, she left me 

quight. 
And to my brother did ellope streight way ; 
Who, taking her from me, his owne love 

left astray. 

X. 

' She, seeing then her selfe forsaken so. 

Through dolorous despaire which she con- 
ceyved, 

Into the Sea her selfe did headlong throw, 

Thinking to have her griefe by death be- 
reaved : 

But see how much her purpose was de- 
ceaved ! 

Whilest thus, amidst the billowes beat- 
ing of her, 

Twixt life and death long to and fro she 
weaved. 

She chaunst unwares to light uppon this 
coffer, 

Which to her in that daunger hope of life 
did offer. 

XI. 

' The wretched mayd, that earstdesir'd 

to die, 
When as the paine of death she tasted had, 
And but halfe seene his ugly visnomie, 
Gan to repent that she had beene so mad 
For any death to chaunge life, though 

most bad : 
And catching hold of this Sea-beaten chesty 
(The lucky Pylot of her passage sad,) 
After long tossing in the seas distrest. 
Her weary barke at last uppon mine Isle 

did rest. 

XII. 

' Where I by chaunce then wandring on 
tlie shore 

Did her espy, and through my good en- 
devour 

From dreadfull mouth of death, which 
threatned sore 

Her to have swallow'd up, did helpe to 
save her. 

She then, in recompence of that great 
favour, 

Which I on her bestowed, bestowed on me 

The portion of that good which Fortune 
gave her, 

Together with her selfe in dowry free : 

Both goodly portions, but of both the bet- 
ter she. 

XIII. 

'Yet in this coffer which she with her 
brought 

Great threasure sithence we did finde con- 
tained, 

Which as our owne we tooke, and so it 
thought ; 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



391 



But this same other Damzell since hath 

fained 
That to her selfe that threasure apper- 
tained ; 
And that she did transport the same hy 

sea, 
To brin^ it to lier husband new ordained, 
But suffred cruell shipwracke by the way : 
But whether it be so or no, I can not say. 

XIV. 

' But, whether it indeede be so or no, 
This doe I say, that what so good or ill 
Or God or Fortune unto me did throw, 
Not wronging any other by my will, 
I hold mine owne, and so will hold it still. 
And though my land he first did winne 

away, 
And then my love, (though now it little 

skill) 
Yet my good lucke he shall not likewise 

pray, 
But I will it defend whilst ever that I may.' 



So having sayd, the younger did ensew : 
' Full true it is what so about our land 
My brother here declared hath to you : 
But not for it this ods twixt us doth stand. 
But for this threasure throwne uppon his 

strand ; 
Which well 1 prove, as shall appeare by 

triall, 
To be this maides with whom I fastned 

hand. 
Known by good markes and perfect good 

espiall : 
Therefore it ought berendred her without 

deniall. 

XVI. 

When they thus ended had, the Knight 

began : 

'Certes, your strife were easie to accord. 

Would ye remit it to some righteous man.' 

' Unto yourself e,' said they, ' we give our 

word, 
To bide that judgement ye shall us afford.' 
' Then for assurance to my doome to 

stand, 
Under my foote let each lay downe his 

sword ; 
And then you shall my sentence under- 
stand. ' 
So each of them layd downe his sword out 
of his hand. 



Then Artegall thus to the younger sayd : 
' Now tell me, Amidas, if tliat ye may. 
Your brothers land the which the sea hath 
layd 



Unto your part, and pluckt from his away, 
By what good right doe you withhold this 

day ? ' 
'What other right,' (quoth he) 'should 

you esteeme. 
But that the sea it to my share did lay ? ' 
' Your right is good,' (sayd he) ' and so I 

deeme. 
That what the sea unto you sent your 

own should seeme.' 

XVIII. 

Then turning to the elder thus he sayd : 
' Now, Bracidas, let this likewise be 

showne ; 
Your brothers threasure, which from him 

is strayd. 
Being the dowry of his M'ife well knowne, 
By what right doe you claime to be your 

owne? ' 
'What other right,' (quoth he) 'should 

you esteeme, 
But that the sea hath it unto me throwne ? ' 
' Your right is good,' (sayd he) ' and so I 

deeme, 
That what the sea unto you sent your 

own should seeme. 



' For equall right in equall things doth 

stand ; 
For what the mighty Sea hath once pos- 

sest. 
And plucked quite from all possessors 

hand, 
Whether by rage of waves that never rest. 
Or else by wracke that wretches hath dis- 

trest. 
He may dispose by his imperiall might. 
As thing at randon left, to whom he list. 
So, Amidas, the land was yours first 

hight ; 
And so the threasure yours is, Bracidas, 

by right.' 

XX. 

When he his sentence thus pronounced 
had. 

Both Amidas and Philtra were displeased ; 

But Bracidas and Lucy were right glad , 

And on the threasure by that judgement 
seased , 

So was their discord by this doome ap- 
peased, 

And each one had his right. Then Arte- 
gall, 

When as their sharpe contention he had 
ceased, 

Departed on his way, as did befall. 

To follow his old quest, the which him 
forth did call. 



392 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



So as he travelled uppon the way. 
He chaunst to come, where happily he 

spide 
A rout of mauy peeple farre away ; 
To whom his course he hastily applide, 
To weete the cause of their assemblaunce 

wide: 
To whom when he approched neare in 

sight, 
(An uncouth sight) he plainely then de- 

scride 
To be a troupe of women, warlike dight, 
With weapons in their hands as ready for 

to fight. 

XXII. 

And in the midst of them he saw a 

Knight, 
With both his hands behinde him pinnoed 

hard. 
And round about his necke an halter 

tight, 
And ready for the gallow-tree prepard : 
His face was covered, and his head was 

bar'd. 
That who he was uneath was to descry ; 
And with full heavy heart with them he 

far'd, 
Griev'd to the soule, and groning in- 
wardly, 
That he of womens hands so base a death 

should dy. 

XXIII. 

But they, like tyrants mercilesse, the 
more 
Kejoyced at his miserable case. 
And him reviled, and reproched sore 
With bitter taunts and termes of vile dis- 
grace. 
Now when as Artegall, arriv'd in place. 
Did aske what cause brought that man to 

decay. 
They round about him gan to swarme 

apace, 
Meaning on him their cruell hands to lay. 
And to have wrought un wares some vil- 
lanous assay. 



But he was soone aware of their ill 

minde. 
And drawing backe deceived their intent : 
Yet, though him selfe did shame on 

woman-kinde 
His mighty hand to shend, he Talus sent 
To wrecke on them their follies hardy- 

ment : 
Who with few sowces of his yron flale 
Dispersed all their troupe incontinent. 
And sent them home to tell a piteous tale 



Of their vaine prowesse turned to their 
proper bale. 



But that same wretched man, ordayned 

to die, 
They left behind them, glad to be so quit : 
Him Talus tooke out of perplexitie. 
And horrour of fowle death for Kaiight 

unfit. 
Who more then losse of life ydreaded it; 
And, him restoring unto living light, 
So brought unto his Lord, where he did 

sit 
Beholding all that womanish weake fight ; 
Whom soone as he beheld he knew, and 

thus behight : 



* Sir Turpine ! haplesse man, what make 
you here? 

Or have you lost your selfe and your dis- 
cretion, 

That ever in this wretched case ye were ? 

Or have ye yeelded you to proude op- 
pression 

Of womens powre, that boast of mens 
subjection ? 

Or else what other deadly dismall day 

Is falne on you by heavens hard direc- 
tion 

That ye were runne so fondly far astray 

As for to lead your selfe unto your owne 
decay ? ' 

XXVII. 

Much was the man confounded in his 

mind, 
Partly with shame, and partly with dis- 
may. 
That all astonisht he him selfe did find. 
And little had for his excuse to say. 
But onely thus: 'Most haplesse well ye 

may 
Me justly terme, that to this shame am 

brought, 
And made the scorne of Knighthod this 

same day : 
But who can scape what his owne fate 

hath wrought? 
The worke of heavens will surpasseth 

humane thought.' 

XXVIII. 

' Right true : but faulty men use often- 
times 
To attribute their folly unto fate. 
And lay on heaven the guilt of their owne 

crimes. 
But tell. Sir Terpin ne let you amate 
Your misery, bow fell ye in this state ? ' 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



393 



' Then sith ye needs ' (quoth he) ' will 

know my shame. 
And all the ill which chaunst to me of 

late, 
I shortly will to you rehearse the same, 
In hope ye will not turne misfortune to 

my blame. 

XXIX. 

* Being desirous (as all Knights are 

woont) 
Through hard adventures deedesof amies 

to try, 
And after fame and honour for to hunt, 
I heard report that farre abrode did fly, 
That a proud Amazon did late defy 
All the brave Knights that hold of 

Maidenhead, 
And unto them wrought all the villany 
That she could forge in her malicious 

head, 
Which some hath put to shame, and 

many done be dead. 

XXX. 

' The cause, they say, of this her cruell 

hate 
Is for the sake of Bellodant the bold, 
To whom she bore most fervent love of 

late. 
And, w^ooed him by all the waies she 

could : 
But wiien she saw at last that he ne 

would 
For ought or nought be wonne unto 

her will. 
She turn'd her love to hatred manifold, 
And for his sake vow'd to doe all the ill 
Which she could doe to Knights; which 

now she doth fulfill. 

XXXI. 

' For all those Knights, the which by 
force or guile 

She doth subdue, she fowly doth entreate. 

First, she doth them of warlike armes 
despoile, 

And cloth in womens weedes : And then 
with threat 

Doth them compell to worke, to earne 
their meat, 

To spin, to card, to sew, to wash, to 
wring; 

Ne doth she give them other thing to eat 

But bread and water or like feeble thing. 

Them to disable from revenge adventur- 
ing. 

XXXII. 

* But if through stout disdaine of manly 

mind 
Any her proud observaunce will withstand , 



Uppon that gibbet, which is there be- 
hind, 
She causeth them be haug'd up out of 

hand ; 
In which condition I right now did stand ; 
For, being overcome by her in fight, 
And put to that base service of her band, 
I rather chose to die in lives despight,^ 
Then lead that shamefull life, unworthy of 
a Knight.' 

XXXIII. 

' How hight that Amazon ? ' (sayd Arte- 

gall) 
' And where and how far hence does she 

abide ? ' 
' Her name ' (quoth he) ' they Radigund 

doe call, 
A Princesse of great powre and greater 

pride. 
And Queene of Amazons, in armes well 

tride 
And sundry battels, which she hath 

atchieved 
With great successe, that her hath 

glorifide, 
And made her famous, more then is 

believed ; 
Ne would I it have ween'd, had I not late 

it prieved.' 

XXXIV. 

* Now sure,' (said he) ' and by the faith 

that I 
To Maydenhead and noble knighthood 

owe, 
I will not rest till I her might doe trie, 
And venge the shame that she to Knights 

doth show. 
Therefore, Sir Terpin, from you lightly 

throw 
This squalid weede, the patterne of dis- 

paire. 
And wend with me, that ye may see and 

know 
How Fortune w^U your ruin'd name re- 

paire 
And knights of Maidenhead, whose praise 

she would empaire.' 



With that, like one that hopelesse was 

depryv'd 
From deatiies dore at which he lately lay. 
Those yron fetters wherewith he was 

gyv'd. 
The badges of reproch, he threw away. 
And nimbly did him dight to guide the 

way 
Unto the dwelling of that Amazone: 
Whi{ h was from thence not past a mile or 

tway. 



394 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



A goodly citty and a mighty one, 
The which, of her owne name, she called 
Radegone. 

XXXVI. 

Where they arriving by the watchman 

were 
Descried streight; who all the city 

• warned 
How that three warlike persons did 

appeare, 
Of which the one him seem'd a Knight all 

armed. 
And th' other two well likely to have 

harmed. 
Eftsoones the people all to harnesse ran, 
And like a sort of Bees in clusters 

swarmed : 
Erelong their Queene her selfe, halfe like 

a man. 
Came forth into the rout, and them 

t' array began. 

XXXVII. 

And now the Knights, being arrived 

neare. 
Did beat uppon the gates to enter in ; 
And at the Porter, skorning them so few. 
Threw many threats, if they the towne 

did win, 
To teare his flesh in peeces for his sin : 
Which when as Radigund there comming 

heard. 
Her heart for rage did grate, and teeth 

did grin. 
She bad that streight the gates should be 

unbard. 
And to them way to make with weapons 

well prepard. 



Soone as the gates were open to them 

set, 
They pressed forward, entraunce to have 

made ; 
But in the middle way they were ymet 
With a sharpe showre of arrowes, which 

them staid. 
And better bad advise, ere they assaid 
Unknowen perill of bold woniens pride. 
Then all that rout uppon them rudely 

laid. 
And heaped strokes so fast on every side. 
And arrowes haild so thicke, that they 

could not abide. 

XXXIX. 

But Radigund her selfe, when she es- 
pide 
Sir Terpin, from her direful! doome 
acquit, 



So cruell doale amongst her maides 
divide 

T' avenge that shame they did on him 
commit. 

All sodainely euflam'd with furious fit 

Like a fell Lionesse at him she flew, 

And on his head-peece him so fiercely 
smit. 

That to the ground him quite she over- 
threw, 

Dismayd so with the stroke that he no 
colours knew. 



Soone as she saw him on the ground to 

grovell, 
She lightly to him leapt; and in his 

necke 
Her proud foote setting, at his head did 

levell, 
Weening at once her wrath on him to 

wreake 
And his contempt, that did her judg'ment 

breake. 
As when a Beare hath seiz'd her cruell 

clawes 
Uppon the carkasse of some beast too 

weake, 
Proudly stands over, and a while doth 

pause 
To heare the piteous beast pleading her 

plaintiffe cause. 



Whom when as Artegall in that distresse 
By chaunce beheld, he left the bloudy 

slaughter 
In which he swam, and ranne to his re- 

dresse : 
There her assay ling fiercely fresh, he 

raught her 
Such an huge stroke, that it of sence dis- 
traught her ; 
And had she not it warded warily, 
It had depriv'd her mother of a daughter : 
Nathlesse for all the powre she did apply 
It made her stagger oft, and stare with 
ghastly eye. 



Like to an Eagle, in his kingly pride 
Soring through his wide Empire of the 

aire 
To weather his brode sailes, by chaunce 

hath spide 
A Goshauke, which hath seized for her 

share 
Uppon some fowle that should her feast 

prepare ; 
With dreadf ull force he flies at her bylive> 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



395 



That with his souce, which none euduren 

dare, 
Her from the quarrey he away doth drive, 
And from her griping pounce the greedy 

prey doth rive. 

XLIII. 

But, soone as she her seuce recover'd 

had, 
She fiercely towards him her selfe gan 

dight, 
Through vengeful wrath and sdeignfull 

pride half mad ; 
For never had she suff red such despight : 
But ere she could ioyne hand with him to 

fight, 
Her warlike maides about her flockt so 

fast. 
That they disparted them, maugre their 

might, 
And with their troupes did far asunder 

cast; 
But mongst the rest the fight did untill 

evening last. 

XLIV. 

And every while that mighty yron man 
With his strange weapon, never wont in 

warre, 
Them sorely vext, and courst, and over- 
ran. 
And broke their bowes, and did their 

shooting niarre. 
That none of all the many once did darre 
Him to assault, nor once approach him 

nie ; 
But like a sort of sheepe dispersed farre 
For dread of their devouring eneraie, 
Through all tlie fields and vallies did before 
him file. 

XLV. 

But when as dales faire shinie-beame, 

yclowded 
With fearefull shadowes of deformed 

night, 
Warn'd man and beast in quiet rest be 

shrowded, 
Bold Radigund with sound of trurape on 

higlit, 
Causd all her people to surcease from 

fight ; 
And gathering them unto her citties gate. 
Made them all enter in before her sight ; 
And all the wounded, and the weake in 

state, 
To be convayed in, ere she would once 

retrate. 

XLVI. 

When thus the field was voided all 
away, 



And all things quieted, the Elfin Knight, 
Weary of toile and travell of that day, 
Causd his pavilion to be richly pight 
Before the city gate, in open sight; 
Where he him selfe did rest in safety 
Together with Sir Terpin all that night : 
But Talus usde, in times of jeopardy, 
To keepe a nightly watch for dread of 
treachery. 



But Radigund, full of heart-gnawing 

grief e 
For the rebuke which she sustain'd that 

day. 
Could take no rest, ne would receive re- 

liefe ; 
But tossed in her troublous minde what 

way 
She mote revenge that blot w^hich on her 

lay. 
There she resolv'd her selfe in single fight 
To try her Fortune, and his force assay, 
Rather then see her people spoiled quight. 
As she had scene that day, a disaventer- 

ous sight. 



She called forth to her a trusty mayd. 
Whom she thought fittest for that busi- 

nesse ; 
Her name was Clarin, and thus to her 

sayd : 
' Goe, damzell, quickly, doe thy selfe ad- 

dresse 
To doe the message which I shall expresse. 
Goe thou unto that stranger Faery Knight, 
Who yeester day drove us to such dis- 

tresse : 
Tell, that to morrow I with him wil fight. 
And try in equall field whether hath 

greater might. 



'But these conditions doe to him pro- 
pound : 
That if I vanquishe him, he shall obay 
My law, and ever to my lore be bound ; 
And so will I, if me he vanquish may. 
What ever he shall like to doe or say. 
Goe streight, and take with thee to wit- 

nesse it 
Sixe of thy fellowes of the best array. 
And beare with you both wine and jun- 

cates fit, 
And bid him eate : henceforth he oft shall 
hungry sit.' 

L. 

The Damzell streight obayd, and put- 
ting all 



^ 



396 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



In readinesse, forth to the Towne-gate 

went ; 
Where, sounding loud a Trumpet from the 

wall, 
Unto those warlike Knights she warning 

sent. 
Then Talus forth issuing from the 

tent 
Unto the wall his way did fearelesse 

take, 
To weeten what that trumpets sounding 

ment: 
Where that same Damzell lowdly him be- 
spake, 
And shew'd that with his Lord she would 

emparlaunce make. 



So he them straight conducted to his Lord ; 
Who, as he could, them goodly w^ell did 

greete, 
Till they had told their message word by 

word : 
Which he accepting well, as he could weete, 
Them fairely entertaynd with curt'sies 

meete, 
And gave them gifts and things of deare 

delight. 
So backe againe they homeward turnd 

their leete ; 
But Artegall him selfe to rest did dight. 
That he mote fresher be against the next 

dales fight. 



CANTO V. 

Artegall fights with Eadigund, 
And is subdewd by guile : 

He is by her imprisoned, 
But wrought by Clarins wile. 



So soone as day forth dawning from the 

East 
Nights humid curtaine from the heavens 

withdrew, 
And earely calling forth both man and 

beast 
Comaunded them their daily workes re- 
new, 
These noble warriors, mindef ull to pursew 
The last dales purpose of their vowed 

fight, 
Them selves thereto preparde in order 

dew; 
The Knight, as best was seeming for a 

Knight, 
And th' Amazon, as best it likt her selfe 

to dight. 



All in a Camis light of purple silke 
Woven uppon with silver, subtly wrought, 
And quilted uppon sattin white as milke ; 
Trayled with ribbands diversly dis- 
traught. 
Like as the workeman had their courses 

taught ; 
Which was short tucked for light motion 
Up to her ham ; but, when she list, it 

raught 
Downe to her lowest heele ; and there- 

uppon 
She wore for her defence a mayled haber- 
geon. 

III. 
And on her legs she painted buskins 
wore, 



Basted with bends of gold on every side, 
And mailes betweene, and laced close 

afore ; 
Uppon her thigh her Cemitare was tide 
With an embrodered belt of mickell pride ; 
And on her shoulder hung her shield, be- 
deck t 
Uppon the bosse with stones that shined 

wide. 
As the faire Moone in her most full aspect 
That to the Moone it mote be like in each 
respect. 

IV. 

So forth she came out of the citty gate 
With stately port and proud magnificence. 
Guarded with many Damzels that did 

waite 
Uppon her person for her sure defence. 
Playing on shaumes and trumpets, that 

from hence 
Their sound did reach unto the heavens 

bight : 
So forth into the field she marched thence. 
Where was a rich Pavilion ready pight 
Her to receive, till time they should begin 

the fight. 



Then forth came Artegall out of his tent, 
All arm'd to point, and first the Lists did 

enter : 
Soone after eke came she, with fell intent 
And countenaunce fierce, as having fully 

bent her 
That battells utmost triall to adventer. 
The Lists were closed fast, to barre the 

rout 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



397 



From rudely pressing to the middle center ; 
Wliicli in great heapes them circled all 

about, 
Wayting how Fortune would resolve that 

daungerous dout. 



The Trumpets sounded, and the field 

began ; 
With bitter strokes it both began and 

ended. 
She at the first encounter on him ran 
With furious rage, as if she had intended 
Out of his breast the very heart have 

reuded : 
But he, that had like tempests often tride, 
From that first flaw him selie right well 

defended. 
The more she rag'd, the more he did 

abide; 
She hewd, she.foynd, she lasht, she laid 

on every side. 

vii. 

Yet still her blowes he bore, and her for- 
bore, 
Weeniiig at last to win advantage new ; 
Yet still her crueltie increased more. 
And, though powre faild, her courage did 

accrew ; 
Which fayling, he gan fiercely her pur- 
sew. 
Like as a Smith that to his cunning feat 
The stubborne mettall seeketh to subdew, 
Soone as he feeles it mollifide with heat. 
With his great yron sledge doth strongly 
on it beat. 

VIII. 

So did Sir Artegall upon her lay, 
As if she had an yron andvile beene, 
That flakes of fire, bright as the sunny 

Out of her steely armes were flashing 

scene, 
That all on fire ye would her surely 

weene ; 
But with her shield so well her selfe she 

warded 
From the dread daunger of his weapon 

keene, 
That all that while her life she safely 

garded ; 
But he that helpe from her against her 

will discarded. 

IX. 

For with his trenchant blade at the 
next blow 
Halfe of her shield he shared quite away, 
That halfe her side it selfe did naked show, 



And thenceforth unto daunger opened 

way. 
Much was she moved with the mightie 

sway 
Of that sad stroke, that halfe enrag'd she 

grew. 
And, like a greedie Beare unto her pray. 
With her sharpe Cemitare at him she flew, 
That glauncing downe his thigh the purple 

bloud forth drew. 



Thereat she gan to triumph with great 

boast. 
And to upbrayd that chaunce which him 

misfell, 
As if the prize she gotten had almost, 
With spightfull speaches, fitting with her 

well ; 
That his great hart gan inwardly to swell 
With indignation at her vaunting vaine. 
And at her strooke with puissaunce feare- 

full fell: 
Yet with her shield she warded it againe, 
That shattered all to peeces round about 

the plaine. 

XI. 

Having her thus disarmed of her shield. 
Upon her helmet he againe her strooke, 
That downe she fell upon the grassie 

field 
In sencelesse swoune, as if her life for- 

sooke, 
And pangs of death her spirit overtooke. 
Whom when he saw before his foote pros- 
trated. 
He to her lept with deadly dreadfull 

looke. 
And her sunshynie helmet soone unlaced. 
Thinking at once both head and helmet 
to have raced. 



But, when as he discovered had her 

face, 
He saw, his senses straunge astonishment, 
A miracle of natures goodly grace 
In her faire visage voide of ornament, 
But bath'd in bloud and sweat together 

ment ; 
Wliich in the rudenesse of that evill 

plight 
Bewrayd the signes of feature excellent : 
Like as the Moone in foggie winters night 
Doth seeme to be her selfe, though 

darkned be her light. 



At sight thereof his cruell minded hart 
Erapierced was with pittifull regard, 



398 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



That his sharpe sword he threw from him 

apart, 
Cursing his hand that had that visage 

mard : 
No hand so cruell, nor no hart so hard, 
But ruth of beautie will it mollifie. 
By this, upstarting from her swoune, she 

star'd 
A while about her with confused eye ; 
Like one that from his dreame is waked 

suddenlye. 

XIV. 

Soone as the knight she there by her 

did spy 
Standing with emptie hands all weapon- 

lesse, 
With fresh assault upon him she did fly. 
And gan renew her former cruelnesse : 
And though he still retyr'd, yet nathelesse 
With huge redoubled strokes she on him 

layd; 
And more increast her outrage mereilesse, 
The more that he with meeke intreatie 

prayd 
Her wrathful hand from greedy vengeance 

to have stayd. 



Like as a Puttocke having spyde in 

sight 
A gentle Faulcon sitting on an hill. 
Whose other wing, now made unmeete 

for flight, 
Was lately broken by some fortune ill ; 
The foolish Kyte, led with licentious will. 
Doth beat upon the gentle bird in vaine, 
With many idle stoups her troubling still : 
Even so did Radiguud with bootlesse 

paine 
Annoy this noble Knight, and sorely him 

constraine. 

XVI. 

Nought could he do but shun the dred 

despight 
Of her fierce wrath, and backward still 

retj^re ; 
And with his single shield, well as he 

might, 
Beare off the burden of her raging yre : 
And evermore he gently did desyre 
To stay her stroks, and he himselfe would 

yield ; 
Yet nould she hearke, ne let him once 

respyre, 
Till he to her delivered had his shield, 
And to her mercie him submitted in plain e 

field. 

XVII. 

So was he overcome ; not overcome, 
But to her yeelded of his owne accord ; 



Yet was he justly damned by the doome 
Of bis owne mouth, that spake so ware- 

lesse word, 
To be her thrall and service her afford : 
For though that he first victorie obtayued, 
Yet after, by abandoning his sword, 
He wilf nil lost that he before attayned : 
No fayrer conquest then that with good- 
will is gayued. 



Tho with her sword on him she flatling 

strooke. 
In signe of true subjection to her powre. 
And as her vassall him to thraldome 

tooke : 
But Terpiue, borne to' a more unhappy 

howre, 
As he on whom the lucklesse stars did 

lowre, 
She caused to be attacht, and forthwith 

led 
Unto the crooke, t' abide the balefull 

stowre 
From which he lately had through reskew 

fled: 
Where he full shamefully was hanged by 

the bed. 

XIX. 

But when they thought on Talus hands 

to lay, 
He with his yron flaile amongst them 

thondred. 
That they were fayne to let him scape 

away, 
Glad from his companie to be so sondred ; 
Whose presence all their troups so much 

encombred, 
That th' lieapes of those which he did 

wound and slay, 
Besides the rest dismay d, might not be 

norabred : 
Yet all that while he would not once as- 
say 
To reskew his owne Lord, but thought it 

just t' obay. 

XX. 

Then tooke the Amazon this noble 

knight, 
Left to her will by his owne wilfull blame, 
And caused him to be disarmed quight 
Of all the ornaments of knightly name, 
With which wbylome he gotten had great 

fame : 
Instead whereof she made him to be dight 
In woraans weeds, that is to manhood 

shame. 
And put before liis lap a napron white, 
Instead of Curiets and bases fit for fight. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



399 



So being clad she brought him from the 

field, 
In which he had bene trayned many a 

day, 
Into a long large chamber, which was 

si eld 
AVith moniments of many Knights decay. 
By her subdewed in victorious^ ray : 
Amongst the which she causd his warlike 

armes 
Be hang'd on high, that mote his shame 

bewray ; 
And broke his sword, for feare of further 

harnies, 
With which he wont to stirre up battail- 
ous alarmes. 

xxir. 
There entred in he round about him saw 
Many brave knights, whose names right 

well he knew, 
There bound t' obay that Amazons proud 

law, 
Spinning and carding all in comely rew, 
That his bigge hart lotli'd so uncomely 

vew: 
But they were forst, through peuurie and 

Pyne, 
To doe those workes to them appointed 

dew; 
For nought was given them to sup or 

dyne, 
But what their hands could earne by 

twisting linnen twyne. 



Amongst them all she placed him most 
low, 
And in his hand a distaff e to him gave, 
That he thereon should spin both flax and 

tow ; 
A sordid office for a mind so brave : 
So hard it is to be a womans slave. 
Yet he it tooke in his owne selfes despight. 
And thereto did himselfe right well be- 
have 
Her to obay, sith he his faith had plight 
Her vassal! to become, if she him wonne 
in fight. 

XXIV. 

Who had him seene imagine mote there- 

i>y 

That whylome hath of Hercules bene told, 
How for lolas sake he did apply 
His mightie hands the distaffe vile to hold 
For his huge club, which had subdew'd of 

old 
So many monsters which the world an- 
noyed, 



His Lyons skin chaungd to a pall of gold, 
In which, forgetting warres, he onely 

joyed 
lu combats of sweet love, and with his 

mistresse toyed. 



Such is the crueltie of womenkynd. 
When they have shaken off the shamefast 

band. 
With w^hich wise Nature did them strongly 

bynd 
T' obay the heasts of mans well-ruling 

hand. 
That then all rule and reason they with- 
stand 
To purchase a. licentious libertie : 
But vertuous women wisely understand. 
That they were borne to base humilitie, 
Unlesse the heavens them lift to lawfull 
soveraintie. 



Thus there long while continu'd Artegall, 
Serving proud Radigund with true sub- 
jection. 
How ever it his noble heart did gall 
T' obay a womans tyrannous direction. 
That might have had of life or death 

election: 
But, having chosen, now^ he might not 

chaunge. 
During which time the warlike Amazon, 
Whose wandring fancie after lust did 

raunge, 
Gan cast a secret liking to this captive 
straunge. 

XXVII. 

Which long concealing in her covert brest, 
She chaw'd the cud of lover's carefull 

plight ; 
Yet could it not so thoroughly digest. 
Being fast fixed in her wounded spright. 
But it tormented her both day and night: 
Yet would she not thereto yeeld free 

accord 
To serve the lowly vassall of her might. 
And of her servant make her soverayne 

. Lord : 
So great her pride that she such basenesse 

much abhord. 

xxvin. 
So much the greater still her anguish 
grew. 
Through stubborne handling of her love- 

sicke hart ; 
And still the more she strove it to subdew. 
The more she still augmented her owne 
smart, 



400 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And wyder made the wound of th' hidden 

dart. 
At last, when long she struggled had in 

vaine, 
She gan to stoupe, and her proud mind 

convert 
To nieeke obeysance of loves mightie raine, 
And him entreat for grace that had pro- 

cur'd her paine. 

XXIX. 

Unto her selfe in secret she did call 
Her nearest handmayd, whom she most 

did trust, 
And to her said : ' Clarinda, whom of all 
I trust alive, sith I thee fostred first, 
Now is the time that I untimely must 
Thereof make tryall in my greatest need. 
It is so hapned that the heavens unjust, 
Spighting my happie freedome, have 

agreed 
To thrall my looser life, or my last bale 

to breed.' 

XXX. 

With that she turn'd her head, as halfe 
abashed. 

To hide the blush which in her visage rose 

And through her eyes like sudden light- 
ning flashed. 

Decking l^er cheeke with a vermilion rose ; 

But soone she did her countenance com- 
pose. 

And to her turning thus began againe : 

' This griefes deepe wound I would to thee 
disclose. 

Thereto compelled through hart-murdring 
paine ; 

But dread of shame my doubtfuU lips doth 
still restraine.' 



' Ah! my deare dread,' (said then the 

faithfuU Mayd) 
' Can dread of ought your dreadlesse hart 

withhold, 
That many hath with dread of death dis- 

mayd, 
And dare even deathes most dreadfull face 

behold ? 
Say on, my soverayne Ladie, and be bold : 
Doth not your handmayds life at your 

foot lie ? ' 
Therewith much comforted she gan unfold 
The cause of her conceived maladie, 
As one that would confesse, yet faine 

would it denie. 

XXXII. 

' Clarin,' (said she) * thou seest yond 
Fayry Knight, 



Whom not my valour, but his owne brave 

mind 
Subjected hath to my unequall might. 
What right is it, that he should thraldome 

find 
For lendhig life to me, a wretch unkind, 
That for such good him recompeuce with 

ill? 
Therefore I cast how I may him unbind, 
And by his freedome get his free goodwill ; 
Yet so, as bound to me he may continue 

still : 

XXXIII. 

' Bound unto me but not with such hard 
bauds 
Of strong compulsion and streight 

violence, 
As now in miserable state he stands ; 
But with sweet love and sure benevolence, 
Voide of malitious mind or foule oft'ence : 
To which if thou canst win him any way 
Without discoverie of my thoughts pre- 
tence, 
Both goodly meede of him it purchase 

may. 
And eke with gratefull service me right 
well apay. 



' Which that thou mayst the better bi*ing 
to pas, 
Loe! here this ring, which shall thy war- 
rant bee, 
And token true to old Eumenias, 
From time to time, when thou it best 

shalt see, 
That in and out thou mayst have passage 

free. 
Goe now, Clarinda; well thy wits advise, 
And all thy forces gather unto thee. 
Armies of lovely lookes, and speeches wise. 
With which thou canst even Jove himselfe 
to love entise.' 

XXXV. 

The trustie Mayd, conceiving her intent. 

Did with sure promise of her good en- 
devour 

Give her great comfort and some harts 
content. 

So, from her parting, she thenceforth did 
labour 

By all the meanes she might to curry 
favour 

With th' Elfin Knight, her Ladies best 
beloved : 

With daily shew of courteous kind be- 
haviour, 

Even at the marke-white of his hart she 
roved. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



401 



And with wide-glaunciug words one day 
she thus him proved. 



* Unhappie Knight! upon whose hope- 

lesse state 
Fortune, envying good, hath felly 

frowned, 
And cruell heavens have heapt an heavy 

fate; 
I rew that thus thy better dayes are 

drowned 
In saddespaire, and all thy senses swowned 
In stupid sorow, sith thy juster merit 
Might else have with felicitie bene 

crowned : 
Looke up at last, and wake thy dulled 

spirit 
To thinke how this long death thou might- 

est disinherit.' 

XXXVII. 

Much did he marvell at her uncouth 

speach, 
Whose hidden drift he could not well per- 
ceive ; 
And gan to doubt least she him sought t' 

appeach 
Of treason, or some guilefull traine did 

weave. 
Through which she might his wretched 

life bereave. 
Both which to barre he with this answere 

met her : 
' Faire Darazell, that with ruth (as I per- 

ceave) 
Of my mishaps art mov'd to wish me 

better, 
For such your kind regard I can but rest 

your detter. 

XXXVIII. 

'Yet, weet ye well, that to a courage 
great 

It is no lesse beseeming well to beare 

The storme of fortunes frowneor heavens 
threat, 

Then in the sunshine of her countenance 
cleare 

Timely to joy and carrie comely cheare : 

For though this cloud have now me over- 
cast. 

Yet doe I not of better times despeyre ; 

And though (unlike) they should for ever 
last, 

Yet in my truthes assurance I rest fixed 
fast.' 

XXXIX. 

'But what SQ stonie mincle,' (she then 
reply de) 



' But if in his owne powre occasion lay. 
Would to his hope a wiudowe open wyde. 
And to his fortunes helpe make readie 

way? ' 
' Unworthy sure ' (quoth he) * of better 

day. 
That will not take the offer of good hope, 
And eke pursew, if he attaine it may.' 
Which speaches she applying to the scope 
Of her intent, this further purpose to hiui 

shope. 

XL. 

' Then why doest not, thou ill advized 

man, 
Make meanes to win thy libertie forlorne. 
And try if thou by faire entreatie can 
Move Radigund? who, though she still 

have worne 
Her dayes in warre, yet (weet thou) was 

not borne 
Of Beares and Tygres, nor so salvage 

mynded 
As that, albe all love of men she scorne. 
She yet forgets that she of men was 

kynded: 
And sooth oft scene, that proudest harts 

base love hath blynded.' 



' Certes, Clarinda, not of cancred will,' 
(Saydhe) ' nor obstinate disdainefull mind, 
I have forbore this duetie to fulfill ; 
For well I may this weene by that I fynd, 
That she a Queene, and conie of Princely 

kynd, 
Both worthie is for to be sewd unto, 
Chiefely by him whose life her law doth 

bynd, 
And eke of powre her owne doome to undo, 
And als' of princely grace to be inclyn'd 

thereto. 

XLII. 

' But want of meanes hath bene mine 
onely let 
From seeking favour where it doth 

abound ; 
Which if I might by your good office get, 
I to your selfe should rest for ever bound. 
And readie to deserve what grace I found.' 
She feeling him thus bite upon the bayt, 
Yet doubting least his hold was but un- 
sound 
And not well fastened, would not strike 

him stray t, 
But drew him on with hope fit leasure to 
awayt, 

XLIII. 

But, foolish Mayd! whyles heedlesse of 
the hooke 
She thus oft times was beating off and on, 



402 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Through slipperie footing fell into the 

brooke, 
And there was caught to her confusion : 
For, seeking thus to salve the Amazon, 
She wounded was with her deceipts owne 

dart. 
And gan thenceforth to cast affection, 
Conceived close in her beguiled hart, 
To Artegall, through pittie of his cause- 

lesse smart. 



Yet durst she not disclose her fancies 
wound, 
Ne to himselfe, for doubt of being sdayned, 
Ne yet to any other wight on ground, 
For feare her mistresse shold have knowl- 
edge gayned ; 
But to her selfe it secretly retayned 
Within the closet of her covert brest. 
The more thereby her tender hart was 

payned ; 
Yet to awayt fit time she weened best, 
And fairely did dissemble her sad thoughts 
unrest. 

XLV. 

One day her Ladie, calling her apart, 
Gan to demaund of her some'tydings good. 
Touching her loves successe, her lingring 

smart. 
Therewith she gan at tirst to change her 

mood , 
As one adaw'd, and halfe confused stood ; 
But quickly she it overpast, so soone 
As she her face had wypt to fresh her 

blood : 
Tho gan she tell her all that she had donne. 
And all the wayes she sought his love for 

to have wonne : 



But sayd that he was obstinate and 

Sterne, 
Scorning her offers and conditions vaine ; 
Ne would be taught with any terms to 

lerne 
So fond a lesson as to love againe : 
Die rather would he in penurious paine, 
And his abridged dayes in dolour wast, 
Then his foes love or liking entertaine. 
His resolution was, both first and last, 
His bodie was her thrall, his hart was 

freely plast. 



Which wlien the cruell Amazon per- 
ceived. 

She gan to storme, and rage, and rend her 
gall. 

For very fell despight which she conceived , 



To be so scorned of a base-borne thrall. 
Whose life did lie in her least eye-lids fall ; 
Of which she vow'd, Avith many a cursed 

threat, 
That she therefore would him ere long f or- 

stall. 
Nathlesse, when calmed was her furious 

heat. 
She chang'd that threatfull mood, and 

mildly gan entreat: 

XLVIII. 

' What now is left, Clarinda ? what re- 
maines. 
That we may compasse this our enter- 
prize ? 
Grep.t shame to lose so long employed 

paines. 
And greater shame t' abide so great mis- 
prize, 
With which he dares our offers thus de- 

spize : 
Yet that his guilt the greater may appeare, 
And more my gratious mercie by this wize, 
I Avill a while with his first folly beare, 
Till thou have tride againe, and tempted 
him more neare. 

XLIX. 

' Say and do all that may thereto pre- 

vaile; 
Leave nought unpromist that may him 

■perswade, 
Life, freedome, grace, and gifts of great 

availe. 
With which the Gods themselves are 

mylder made: 
Thereto adde art, even womens witty 

trade, 
The art of mightie words that men can 

charme ; 
With which in case thou canst him not in- 
vade. 
Let him feele hardnesse of thy heavie 

arme: 
Who will not stoupe with good shall be 

made stoupe with harme. 



' Some of his diet doe from him with- 
draw, 
For I him find to be too proudly fed : 
Give him more labour, and with streighter 

law. 
That he with worke may be forwearied : 
Let him lodge hard, and lie in strawen 

bed. 
That may pull downe the courage of his 

pride ; 
And lay upon him, for his greater dread, 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



403 



Cold yron chaines with which let him be 

tide; 
And let what ever he desires be him denide . 



'When thou hast all this doen, then 

bring me newes 
Of his demeane: thenceforth not like a 

lover, 
But like a rebell stout, I will him use ; 
For I resolve this siege not to give over. 
Till I the conquest of my will recover.' 
So she departed full of griefe and sdaiue, 
Which inly did to great impatience move 

her : 
But the false mayden shortly turn'd againe 
Unto the prison, where her hart did thrall 

remaine. 

LII. 

There all her subtill nets she did unfold, 
And all the engins of her wit display ; 
In which she meant him warelesse to en- 
fold. 
And of his innocence to make her pray. 
So cunningly she wrought her crafts assay, 
That both her Ladie, and her selfe withall. 
And eke the knight attonce she did betray ; 
But most the knight, whom she with guile- 
full call 
Did cast for to allure into her trap to fall. 



As a bad Nurse, which, fayning to re- 
ceive 

In her owne mouth the food ment for her 
chyld, 

Withholdes it to her selfe, and doeth de- 
ceive 

The infant, so for want of nourture spoyld ; 

Even so Clarinda her owne Dame beguyld. 

And turn'd the trust which was in her 
affyde, 

To feeding of her private fire, which boy Id 

Her inward brest, and in her entrayles 
fryde. 

The more that she it sought to cover and 
to hyde. 

LIV. 

For, comming to this knight, she pur- 
pose fayned. 

How earnest suit she earst for him had 
made 

Unto her Queene, his freedome to have 
gayned, 



But by no meanes could her thereto per- 

swade ; 
But that instead thereof she sternely bade 
His miserie to be augmented more, 
And many yron bands on him to lade : 
All which nathlesse she for his love for- 
bore ; 
So praying him t' accept her service ever- 
more. 

LV. 

And, more then that, she promist that 

she would, 
In case she might finde favour in his eye, 
Devize hrw to enlarge him out of hould. 
The Fayne, glad to gaiue his libertie, 
Can yeeld great thaukes for such her 

curtesie ; 
And with faire words, fit for the time and 

place, 
To feede the humour of her maladie, 
Promist, if she would free him from that 

case. 
He wold, by all good means he might, 

deserve such grace. 



So daily he faire semblant did her shew, 
Yet never meant he in his noble mind 
To his owne absent love to be uiitrew: 
Ne never did deceiptfull Clarin find 
In her false bait his bondage to unbind, 
But rather how she mote him faster tye. 
Therefore unto her mistresse most unkind 
She daily told her love he did defye ; 
And him she told her Dame his freedome 
did denye. 

LVIT. 

Yet thus much friendship she to him did 
show. 

That his scarse diet somewhat was 
amended. 

And his worke lessened, that his love mote 
grow: 

Yet to her Dame him still she discom- 
mended. 

That she with him mote be the more of- 
fended. 

Thus he long while in thraldome there re- 
may ned. 

Of both beloved well, but litle freuded, 

Untill his owne true love his freedome 
gayned : 

Which in an other Canto will be best con- 
tayned. 



404 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



CANTO VI. 

Talus brings newes to Britomart 

Of Artegals mishap : 
She goes to seeke him, Dolon meetes, 

Who seekes her to entrap. 



I. 

Some men, I wote, will deeme in Arte- 

gall 
Great weakuesse, and report of him much 

ill, 
For yeelding so himselfe a wretc .ed thrall 
To th' insolent conimaund of womens will ; 
That all his former praise doth fowly spill: 
But he the man, that say or doe so dare, 
Be well ad viz 'd that he stand stedfast still ; 
For never yet was wight so well aware, 
But he, at first or last, was trapt in womens 

snare. 

II. 

Yet in the streightnesse of that captive 
state 
This gentle knight himselfe so well be- 
haved, 
That notwithstanding all the subtill bait 
With which those Amazons his love still 

craved, 
To his owne love his loialtie he saved : 
Whose character in th' Adamantine mould 
Of his true hart so firmely was engraved, 
That no new loves impression ever could 
Bereave it thence: such blot his honour 
blemish should. 

III. 

Yet his owne love, the noble Britomart, 
Scarse so conceived in her jealous thought, 
What time sad tydings of his balefull 

smart 
In womans bondage Talus to her brought ; 
Brought in untimely houre, ere it was 

sought : 
For, after that the utmost date assynde 
For his returne she waited had for nought. 
She gan to oast in her misdoubtfull mynde 
A thousand feares, that love-sicke fancies 

faine to fynde. 

IV. 

Sometime she feared least some hard 

mishap 
Had him misfalne in his adventurous 

quest ; 
Sometime least his false foe did him entrap 
In traytrous traine, or had unwares op- 

prest ; 
But most she did her troubled mynd molest, 



And secretly afflict with jealous feare, 
Least some new love had him from her 

possest : 
Yet loth she was, since she no ill did 

heare, 
To thinke of him so ill ; yet could she not 

forbeare. 

V. 

One while she blam'd her selfe ; another 

whyle 
She him condemu'd as trustlesse and un- 

trew; 
And then, her griefe with errour to be- 

guyle, 
She fayn'd to count the time againe anew, 
As if before she had not counted trew : 
For houres, but dayes ; for weekes that 

passed were, 
She told but moneths, to make them 

seeme more few ; 
Yet when she reckned them, still draw- 
ing neare, 
Each hour did seeme a moneth, and every 

moneth a yeare. 



But when as yet she saw him not re- 
turne, 

She thought to send some one to seeke 
him out ; 

B^t none she found so fit to serve that 
turne, 

As her owne selfe, to ease her selfe of dout. 

Now she deviz'd, amongst the warlike 
rout 

Of errant Knights, to seeke her errant 
Knight; 

And then againe resolv'd to hunt him out, 

Amongst loose Ladies lapped in delight: 

And then both Knights envide, and La- 
dies eke did spight. 



One day when as she long had sought 

for ease 
In every place, and every place thought 

best. 
Yet found no place that could her liking 

please, 
She to a window came that opened West, 
Towards which coast her love his way ad- 

drest : 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



405 



There lookiug forth, shee in her heart did 

find 
Many vaiue fancies working her unrest ; 
And sent her winged thouglits, more swift 

then wind, 
To beare unto her love the message of her 

mind. 

VIII. 

There as she looked long, at last she 

spide 
One comniing towards her with hasty 

speeds 
AVell weend she then, ere him she plaine 

descride, 
That it was one sent from her love iu- 

deede ; 
Who when he nigh approcht, shee mote 

arede 
That it was Talus, Artegall his groome : 
Whereat her heart was fild with hope and 

drede ; 
Ne would she stay till he in place could 

come. 
But ran to meete him forth to know his 

tidings somme. 



Even in the dore him meeting, she be- 
gun : 

' And where is he thy Lord, and how far 
hence? 

Declare at once : and hath he lost or 
wun ? ' 

The yron man, albe he wanted sence 

And sorrowes feeling, yet, with con- 
science 

Of his ill newes, did inly chill and 
quake. 

And stood still mute, as one in great sus- 
pence ; 

As if that by his silence he would make 

Her rather reade his meaning then him 
selfe it spake. 

X. 

Till she againe thus sayd: 'Talus, be 

bold. 
And tell what ever it be, good or bad. 
That from thy tongue thy hearts intent 

doth hold.' 
To whom he thus at length : ' The tidings 

sad. 
That I would hide, will needs, I see, be 

rad. 
My Lord, your love, by hard mishap doth 

lie 
In wretched bondage, wofully bestad.' 
* Ay me,' (quoth she) 'what wicked des- 

tiuie ! 
And is he vanquisht by his tyrant enemy ? ' 



' Not by that Tyrant, his intended foe, 
But by a Tyrannesse,' (he then replide) 
' That him captived hath in haplesse woe.' 
' Cease, thou bad newes-man ! badly doest 

thou hide 
Thy maisters shame, in harlots bondage 

tide: 
The rest my selfe too readily can spell.' 
With that in rage she turn'd from him 

aside. 
Forcing in vaine the rest to her to tell ; 
And to her chamber went like solitary cell. 

XII. 

There she began to make her monefull 

plaint 
Against her Knight for being so untrew; 
And him to touch with falshoods fowle 

attaint, 
That all liis other honour overthrew. 
Oft did she blame her selfe, and often rew. 
For yeelding to a straungers love so light, 
Whose life and manners straunge she 

never knew ; 
And evermore she did him sharpely twight 
For breach of faith to her, which he had 

firmely plight. 



And then she in her wrathfull will did 
cast 
How to revenge that blot of honour blent. 
To fight with him, and goodly die her last : 
And then againe she did her selfe tor- 
ment, 
Inflicting on her selfe his punishment. 
A while she walkt, and chauft ; a while 

she threw 
Her selfe uppon her bed, and did lament : 
Yet did she not lament with loude alew. 
As women wont, but with deepe sighes 
and singults few. 

XIV. 

Like as a wayward childe, whose 

sounder sleepe 
Is broken with some fearefull dreames 

affright. 
With fro ward will doth set him selfe to 

weepe, 
Ne can be stild for all his nurses might. 
But kicks, and squals, and shriekes for 

fell despight; 
Now scratching her, and her loose locks 

misusing. 
Now seeking darkenesse, and now seek- 
ing light, 
Then craving sucke, and then the sucke 

refusing : 



4o6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Such was this Ladies fit in her loves fond 
accusing. 

XV. 

But when she had witli such unquiet fits 
Her selfe there close affiicted long in vaine, 
Yet found no easement in her troubled 

wits, 
She unto Talus forth return'd againe, 
By change of place seeking to ease her 

paine ; 
And gan enquire of him with mylder mood 
The certaine cause of Artegals detaiue, 
And what he did, and in what state he 

stood, 
And whether he- did woo, or whether he 

were woo'd ? 



' Ah wellaway ! ' (sayd then the yron 

man) 
' That he is not the while in state to woo ; 
But lies in wretched thraldome, weake 

and wan. 
Not by strong hand compelled thereunto, 
But his owne doome, that none can now 

undoo.' 
* Sayd I not then' (quoth shee), ' erwhile 

aright. 
That this is things compacte betwixt you 

two. 
Me to deceive of faith unto me plight, 
Since that he was not forst, nor overcome 

in fight ? ' 

XVII. 

With that he gan at large to her dilate 
The whole discourse of his captivance sad, 
In sort as ye have heard the same of late : 
All which when she with hard enduraunce 

had 
Heard to the end, she was right sore be- 

stad, 
With sodaine stounds of wrath and griefe 

attone ; 
Ne would abide, till she had aunswere 

made. 
But streight her selfe did dight, and armor 

don. 
And mounting to her steede bade Talus 

guide her on. 

XV III. 

So forth she rode uppon her ready 

way. 
To seeke her Knight, as Talus her did 

guide. 
Sadly she rode, and never word did say 
Nor good nor bad, ne ever lookt aside. 
But still right downe ; and in her thought 

did hide 
The fehiesse of her heart, right fully bent 



To fierce avengement of that womans 

pride, 
Which had her Lord in her base prison 

pent. 
And so great honour with so fowle re- 

proch had blent. 



So as she thus melancholicke did ride. 
Chawing the cud of griefe and inward 

paine, 
She chaunst to meete, toward the even- 
tide, 
A Knight that softly paced on the plaine, 
As if him selfe to solace he were faine: 
Well shot in yeares he seem'd, and rather 

bent 
To peace then needlesse trouble to con- 

straine. 
As well by view of that his vestiment. 
As by his modest semblant that no evill 
ment. 

XX. 

He comming neare gan gently her sa- 
lute 

With curteous words, in the most comely 
wize ; 

Who though desirous rather to rest mute, 

Then termes to entertaine of common 
guize. 

Yet rather then she kindnesse would de- 
spize, 

She would her selfe displease, so him re- 
quite. 

Then gan the other further to devize 

Of things abrode, as next to hand did 
light, 

And many things demaund, to which she 
answer'd light. 



For little lust had she to talke of ought, 
Or ought to heare that mote delightfull 

bee: 
Her minde was whole possessed of one 

thought, 
That gave none other place. Which when 

as hee 
By outward signes (as well he might) did 

see. 
He list no lenger to use lothfull speach. 
But her besought to take it well in gree, 
Sith shady dampe had dimd the heavens 

reach, 
To lodge with him that night, unles good 

cause empeach. 

XXII. 

The Championesse, now seeing night at 
dore. 



CANTO^VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



407 



Was glad to yeeld unto his good request, 
And with him went without gaiue-saying 

more. 
Not farre away, but little wide by West, 
His dwelling was, to which he him ad- 

drest : 
Where soone arriving they received were 
In seemely wise, as them beseemed best ; 
For he, their host, them goodly well did 

cheare. 
And talk't of pleasant things the night 

away to weare. 



Thus passing th' evening w^ell, till time 

of rest, 
Then Britomart unto a bowre was brought, 
Where groomes awayted her to have uu- 

drest ; 
But she ne would undressed be for ought, 
Ne doffe her armes, though he her much 

besought : 
For she had vow'd, she sayd, not to forgo 
Those warlike weedes, till she revenge 

had wrought 
Of a late wrong uppon a mortall foe ; 
Which she would sure performe, betide 

her wele or wo. 



Which when their Host perceiv'd, right 

discontent 
In minde he grew, for feare least by that 

art 
He should his purpose misse, which close 

he ment: 
Yet taking leave of her he did depart. 
There all that night remained Britomart, 
Restlesse, recomfortlesse, with heart deepe 

grieved, 
Nor suffering the least twinckling sleepe 

to start 
Into her eye, which th' heart mote have 

relieved; 
But if the least appear'd, her eyes she 

streight reprieved : 

XXV. 

* Ye guilty eyes,' (sayd she) ' the which 

with guyle 
My heart at first betrayd, will ye betray 
My life now too, for which a little whyle 
Ye will not watch? false watches, wella- 

way ! 
I wote w^hen ye did watch both night and 

day 
Unto your losse ; and now needes will ye 

sleepe ? 
Now ye have made my heart to wake al- 

way, 



Now will ye sleepe ? ah ! wake, and rather 

weepe 
To thinke of your nights want, that 

should yee waking keepe.' 



Thus did she watch, and w^eare the 
weary night 
In waylfuU plaints that none was to ap- 
pease ; 
Now walking soft, now sitting still up- 
right, 
As sundry chaunge her seemed best to 

ease. 
Ne lesse did Talus suffer sleepe to seaze 
His eye-lids sad, but watcht continually. 
Lying without her dore in great disease: 
Like to a Spaniell wayting carefully 
Least any should betray his Lady treach- 
erously. 

XXV IT. 

Wliat time the native Belman of the 

night. 
The bird that warned Peter of his fall. 
First rings his silver Bell t' each sleepy 

wight, 
That should their mindes up to devotion 

call. 
She heard a w^ondrous noise below the 

hall: 
All sodainely the bed, where she should 

lie. 
By a false trap was let adowne to fall 
Into a lower roome, and by and by 
The loft was raysd againe, that no man 

could it spie. 

XXVIII. 

With sight whereof she was dismayd 

right sore. 
Perceiving well the treason which was 

ment; 
Yet stirred not at all for doubt of more, 
But kept her place with courage confident, 
Wayting what would ensue of that event. 
It was not long before she heard the sound 
Of armed men comming with close intent 
Towards her chamber ; at which dreadfull 

stound 
She quickly caught her sword, and shield 

about her bound. 



With that there came unto her chamber 

dore 
Two Knights all armed ready for to fight; 
And after them full many other more, 
Araskall rout, with weapons rudely dight : 
Whom soone as Talus spide by glims of 

night, 



4o8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



He started up, there where ou ground he 

lay, 
And in his hand his thresher ready keight. 
They seeing that let drive at him streight- 

way, 
And round about him preace in riotous 

aray. 

XXX. 

But, soone as he began to lay about 
With his rude yrou flaile, they gan to flie, 
Both armed Kniglits and ekeunarmed rout ; 
Yet Talus after them apace did plie. 
Where ever in- the darke he could them 

spie, 
That here and there like scattred sheepe 

they lay : 
Then, backe returning where his Dame 

did lie. 
He to her told the story of that fray, 
And all that treason there intended did 

bewray. 

XXXI. 

Wherewith though wondrous wroth, 

and inly burning, 
To be avenged for so fowle a deede, 
Yet being forst to abide the dales return- 
ing, 
She there remain'd : but with right wary 

heede, 
Least any more such practise should pro- 

ceede. 
Now mote ye know (that which to Brito- 

mart 
Unknowen was) whence all this did 

proceede ; 
And for what cause so great mischievous 

smart 
Was ment to her that never evill ment in 

hart. 

XXXII. 

The good man of this house was Dolon 

hight ; 
A man of subtill wit and wicked minde, 
That whilome in his youth had bene a 

Knight, 
And armes had borne, but little good could 

finde, 
And much lesse honour by that warlike 

kinde 
Of life : for he was nothing valorous. 
But with slie shiftes and wiles did under- 

minde 
All noble Knights, which were adventur- 
ous, 
And many brought to shame by treason 

treacherous. 

XXXIII. 

He had three sonnes, all three like 
fathers sonnes, 



Like treacherous, like full of fraud and 

guile, 
Of all that on this earthly compasse 

wonues ; 
The eldest of the which was slaine ere- 

while 
By Artegall, through his owne guilty wile : 
His name was Guizor ; whose untimely fate 
For to avenge, full many treasons vile 
His father Dolon had deviz'd of late 
With these his wicked sons, and shewd 

his cankred hate. 



For sure he weend that this his present 

guest 
Was Artegall, by many tokens plaine ; 
But chiefly by tliat yron page he ghest, 
Which still was wont with Artegall re- 

maine ; 
And therefore ment him surely to have 

slaine : 
But by Gods grace, and her good heedi- 

nesse, 
She was preserved from their traytrous 

traine. 
Thus she all night wore out in watchful- 

nesse, 
Ne suffred slothfull sleepe her eyelids to 

oppresse. 

XXXV. 

The morrow next, so soone as dawning 

houre 
Discovered had the light to living eye. 
She forth yssew'd out of her loathed bowre, 
With full intent t' avenge that villany 
On that vilde man and all his family ; 
And, comming down to seeke them where 

they wond, 
Nor sire, nor sonnes, nor any could she 

spie : 
Each rowme she sought, but them all 

empty fond. 
They all were fled for feare ; but whether, 

nether kond. 



She saw it vaine to make there lenger 
stay, 

But tooke her steede ; and thereon mount- 
ing light 

Gan her addresse unto her former way. 

She had not rid the mountenance of a 
flight. 

But that she saw there present in her sight 

Those two false brethren on thatperillous 
Bridge, 

On which Pollente with Artegall did fight. 

Streight was the passage, like a ploughed 
ridge, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



409 



That, if two met, the one mote needes fall 
over the lidge. 



There they did thinke them selves on 

her to wreake ; 
Who as she nigh nnto them drew, the one 
These vile reproches gau unto lier speake : 
' Tiiou recreant false traytor, that with 

lone 
Of armes hast knighthood stolne, yet 

Knight art none. 
No more shall now the darkenesse of the 

night 
Defend thee from the vengeance of thy 

fone ; 
But with thy bloud thou shalt appease the 

sp right 
Of Guizor by thee slaine, and murdred by 

thy slight.' 

XXXVIII. 

Strange were the words in Britomartis 

eare. 
Yet stayd she not for them, but forward 

fared. 
Till to the perillous Bridge she came ; and 

there 
Talus desir'd that he might have prepared 
The way to her, and those two lose Is 

scared ; 
But she thereat was wroth, that for de- 

spight 
The glauncing sparkles tlirough her bever 

glared. 
And from her eies did flash out fiery light, 



Like coles that through a silver Censer 
sparkle bright. 

XXXIX. 

She stayd not to advise which way to 
take, 

But putting spurres unto her fiery beast. 

Thorough the midst of them she way did 
make. 

The one of them, which most her wrath 
increast, 

Uppon her speare she bore before her 
breast. 

Till to the Bridges further end she past; 

Where falling downe his challenge he re- 
least : 

The other over side the Bridge she cast 

Into the river, where he drunke his deadly 
last. 

XL. 

As when the flashing Levin haps to light 
Uppon two stubborne oakes, which stand 

so neare 
That way betwixt them none appeares in 

sight ; 
The Engin, fiercely flying forth, doth teare 
Th' one from the earth, and through the 

aire doth beare ; 
The other it with force doth overthrow 
Uppon one side, and from his rootes doth 

reare : 
So did the Championesse those two there 

strow, 
And to their sire their carcasses left to 

bestow. 



CANTO VII. 

Britomart comes to Isis CliurcL, 
Whore shee strani>e visions sees : 

She fig-hts with Radigund, her slaies, 
And Artegall thence frees. 



Nought is on earth more sacred or 

divine, 
That Gods and men doe equally adore, 
Then this same vertue that doth right 

define : 
For th' hevens themselves, whence mortal 

men implore 
Right in their wrongs, are rul'd by right- 
eous lore 
Of highest Jove, who doth true justice 

deale 
To his inferiour Gods, and evermore 
Therewith containes his heavenly Com- 

monweale : 
The skill whereof to Princes hearts he 

doth reveale. 



II. 

Well therefore did the antique world 

invent 
That Justice was a God of soveraine 

grace, 
x\nd altars unto him and temples lent, 
And heavenly honours iu tlie highest place ; 
Calling him great Osyris. of the race 
Of th' old ^Egyptian Kings that whylome 

were. 
With fayned colours shading a true case; 
For that Osyris, whilest he lived here, 
The justest man alive and truest did ap- 

peare. 

III. 

His wife was Isis ; whom they likewise 
made 



4IO 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book V 



A Goildesse of great powre and soverainty, 
And in her person cunningly did shade 
That part of Justice Avliich is Equity, 
Whereof I have to treat here presently : 
Unto whose temple when as Britoniart 
Arrived, shee with groat humility 
Did enter in, nee would that night depart ; 
But Talus mote not be admitted to her 
part. 

IV. 

Tliere she reeeiveil was in goodly wize 
Of many Priests, which duely did attend 
Uppon the rites and daily sacrifize, 
AU clad in linnen robes with silver hemd ; 
And on their heads, with long locks comely 

kemd. 
They wore rich Mitres shaped like the 

Moone, 
To shew that Isis doth the Moone portend ; 
Like as Osyris signifies the Sunne: 
For that they both like race in equall 

justice runne. 



The Championesse them greeting, as she 

could, 
Was thence by them into the Temple led ; 
Whose goodly building wlien she did be- 

hould. 
Borne uppon stately pi Hours, all dispred 
With shining gold, and arched over hed, 
She wondred at the workemans passing 

skill, 
Whose like before she never saw nor red ; 
And thereuppou long while stood gazing 

still, 
But thought that she thereon could never 

gaze her fill. 



Thence forth unto the Idoll they her 

brought ; 
The which was framed all of silver fine, 
So well as could with cunning hand be 

wrought. 
And clothed all in garments made of line, 
Hemd all about with fringe of silver 

twine : 
Uppon her head she wore a Crowne of 

gold ; 
To shew that she had powre in things 

divine: 
And at her feete a Crocodile was rold, 
That with her wreathed taile her middle 

did enfold. 

VII. 

One foote was set uppon the Crocodile, 
And on the ground the other fast did 

stand ; 
So meaning to suppresse both forged guile 



And open force : and in her other hand 

She stretched forth a long white sclender 
wand. 

Such was the Goddesse; whom when 
Britomart 

Had long beheld, her selfe uppon the 
land 

She did prostrate, and with right humble 
hart 

Unto her selfe her silent prayers did im- 
part. 

VIII. 

To which the Idoll, as it were inclining, 
Her wand did move with amiable looked 
By outward shew her inward sence desin- 

ing: 
Who well perceiving how her wand she 

shooke. 
It as a token of good fortune tooke. 
By this the day with dampe was overcast. 
And joyous light the house of Jove for- 

sooke ; 
Which when she saw her helmet she un- 

laste, 
And by the altars side her selfe to slum- 
ber plaste. 

IX. 

For other beds the Priests there used 
none, 
But on their mother Earths deare lap did 

lie, 
And bake their sides uppon the cold hard 

stone, 
T' enure them selves to sufferaunce 

thereby, 
And proud rebellious flesh to mortify : 
For by the vow of their religion, 
They tied were to stedfast chastity 
And continence of life, that, all forgon, 
They mote the better tend to their devo- 
tion. 

X. 

Therefore they mote not taste of fleshly 

food, 
Ne feed on ought the which doth blond 

containe, 
Ne drinke of wine ; for wine, they say, is 

blood, 
Even the blond of Gyants, which were 

slaine 
By thundring Jove in the Phlegrean 

l^laine : 
For which the earth (as they the story 

tell) 
Wroth with the Gods, which to perpetuall 

paine 
Had damn'd her sonnes which gainst them 

did rebell, 
With inward griefe and malice did against 

them swell. 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



411 



And of their vitall blond, the which was 

shed 
Into her pregnant bosome, fortli she 

brought 
The fruitful! vine ; whose liquor blouddy 

red, 
Having the mindes of men with fury- 
fraught. 
Mote in them stirre up old rebellious 

thought 
To make new warre against the Gods 

againe. 
Such is the powre of that same fruit, that 

nought 
The fell contagion may thereof restraine, 
Ne within reasons rule her madding mood 

containe. 

XII. 

There did the warlike Maide her selfe 

repose. 
Under the wings of Isis all that night ; 
And with sweete rest her heavy eyes did 

close. 
After that long dales toile and weary 

plight : 
Where whilest her earthly parts with soft 

delight 
Of sencelesse sleepe did deeply drowned 

lie, 
There did appeare unto her heavenly 

spright 
A wondrous vision, which did close implie 
The course of all her fortune and pos- 

teritie. 

XIII. 

Her seem'd, as she was doing saerifize 
To Isis, dcckt with Mitre on her bed 
And linnen stole after those Priestes 

guize. 
All sodainely she saw transfigured 
Her linnen stole to robe of scarlet red, 
And Moone-like Mitre to a Crowne of 

gold ; 
That even she her selfe much wondered 
At such a chaunge, and joyed to behold 
Her selfe adorn 'd with gems and jewels 

manifold. 

XIV. 

And, in the midst of her felicity. 
An hideous tempest seemed from below 
To rise through all the Temple sodainely. 
That from the Altar all about did blow 
The holy fire, and all the embers strow 
Uppon the ground ; which, kindled privily, 
Into outragious flames unwares did grow. 
That all the Temple put in jeopardy 
Of flaming, and her selfe in great per- 
plexity. 



With that the Crocodile, which sleeping 

lay 
Under the Idols feete in fearelesse bowre, 
Seem'd to awake in horrible dismaj', 
As being troubled with that stormy 

stowre ; 
And gaping- greedy wide did streight 

devoure 
Both flames and tempest: with which 

growen great. 
And swolne with pride of his owne peere- 

lesse powre, 
He gan to threaten her likewise to eat, 
But that the Goddesse with her rod him 

backe did beat. 



Tho turning all his pride to humblesse 

meeke, 
Him selfe before her feete he lowly threw. 
And gan for grace and love of her to seeke ; 
Which she accepting, he so neare her drew 
That of his game she soone enwombed 

grew. 
And forth did bring a Lion of great might, 
That shortly did all other beasts subdew. 
With that she waked full of fearefull 

fright. 
And doubtfully dismayd through that so 

uncouth sight. 

XVII. 

So thereuppon long while she musing 

lay, 
With thousand thoughts feeding her fan- 

tasie, 
Untill she spide the lampe of lightsome 

day 
Up-lifted in the porch of heaven hie : 
Then up she rose fraught with melancholy. 
And forth into the lower parts did pas, 
Whereas the Priestes she found full busily 
About their holy things for morrow Mas ; 
Whom she saluting faire, faire resaluted 

was : 

XVIII. 

But by the change of her unchearefuU 

looke, 
They might perceive she was not well in 

plight. 
Or that some pensivenesse to heart she 

tooke : 
Therefore thus one of them, who seem'd 

in sight 
To be the greatest and the gravest wight, 
To her bespake : ' Sir Knight, it seemes to 

me 
That, thorough evill rest of this last night, 
I Or ill apayd or much dismayd ye be ; 



412 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



That by your change of cheare is easie for 
to see.' 

XIX. 

'Certes,' (sayd she) * sith ye so well 

have spide 
The troublous passion of my pensive mind, 
I will not seeke the same from you to hide ; 
But will my cares unfolde, in hope to find 
Your aide to guide me out of errour blind.' 
' Say on ' (quoth he) ' the secret of your 

hart 
For, by the holy vow which me doth bind, 
I am adjur'd best counsell to impart 
To all that shall require my comfort in 

their smart.' 



Then gan she to declare the whole dis- 
course 

Of all that vision which to her appeard, 

As well as to her minde it had recourse. 

All which when he unto the end had heard, 

Like to a weake faint-hearted man he 
fared 

Through great astonishment of that 
strange sight; 

And, with long locks up-standing, stifly 
stared 

Like one adawed with some dreadfull 
spright : 

So, fild with heavenly fury, thus he her 
behight. 

XXI. 

' Magnificke Virgin, that in queiut dis- 
guise 
Of British armes doest maske thy royall 

blood, 
So to pursue a perillous emprize, 
How couldst thou weene, through that dis- 
guized hood. 
To hide thy state from being understood ? 
Can from th' iramortall Gods ought hidden 

bee? 
They doe thy linage, and thy Lordly brood. 
They doe thy sire lamenting sore for thee, 
They doe thy love forlorne in womens 
thraldome see. 

XXII. 

'The end whereof, and all the long 
event, 
They do to thee in this same dreame dis- 
cover ; 
For that same Crocodile doth represent 
The righteous Knight that is thy faithfull 

lover, 
Like to Osyris in all just endever: 
For that same Crocodile Osyris is. 
That under Isis feete doth sleepe for ever ; 
To shew that clemence oft, in things amis, 



Restrames those sterne behests and cruell 
doomes of his. 

XXIII. 

' That Knight shall all the troublous 

stormes asswage 
And raging flames, that many foes shall 

reare 
To hinder thee from the just heritage 
Of thy sires Crowne, and from tliy couu- 

trey deare : 
Then shalt thou take him to thy loved fere. 
And joyue in equall portion of thy realme ; 
And afterwards a sonne to him shalt beare, 
That Lion-like shall shew his powre ex- 

treame. 
So blesse thee God, and give thee joyance 

of thy dreame ! ' 

XXIV. 

All which when she unto the end had 

heard. 
She much was eased in her troublous 

thought, 
And on those Priests bestowed rich re- 
ward ; 
And royall gifts of gold and silver wrought 
She for a present to their Goddesse 

brought. 
Then taking leave of them, she forward 

went 
To seeke her love, where he was to be 

sought ; 
Ne rested till she came without relent 
Unto the land of Amazons, as she was 

bent. 

XXV. 

Whereof when newes to Radigund was 

brought, 
Not with amaze, as women wonted bee. 
She was confused in her troublous 

thought ; 
But fild with courage and with joyous glee. 
As glad to heare of armes, the which now 

she 
Had long surceast, she bad to open bold. 
That she the face of her new foe might 

see: 
But when they of that yron man had told, 
Which late her folke had slaiue, she bad 

them forth to hold. 

XXVI. 

So there without the gate, (as seemed 

best) 
She caused her Pavilion be pight ; 
In which stout Britomart her selfe did 

rest. 
Whiles Talus watched at the dore all 

night. 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



4^3 



All night likewise they of the towue in 

fright 
Uppon their wall good watch and ward 

did keepe. 
The morrow next, so soone as dawning 

light 
Bad doe away the darape of drouzie sleepe, 
The warlike Amazon out of her bowre did 

peepe. 

XXVII. 

And caused streight a Trumpet loud to 

shrill 
To warne her foe to battell soone be prest : 
Who, long before awoke, (for she ful ill 
Could sleepe all night, that in unquiet brest 
Did closely harbour such a jealous guest) 
"Was to the battell whilome ready dight. 
Ef tsoones that warriouresse with haughty 

crest 
Did forth issue all ready for the fight : 
On th' other side her foe appeared soone 

in sight. 

XXVIII. 

But ere they reared hand the Amazone 
Began the streight conditions to propound. 
With which she used still to tye her fone, 
To serve her so as she the rest had bound : 
Which when the other heard, she sternly 

frowiid 
For high disdaine of such indignity, 
And would no lenger treat, but bad them 

sound ; 
For her no other termes should ever tie 
Then what prescribed were by lawes of 

chevalrie. 

XXIX. 

The Trumpets sound, and they together 
run 

With greedy rage, and with their faulchins 
smot ; 

Ne either sought the others strokes to 
shun, 

But through great furj^ both their skill 
forgot. 

And practicke use in armes ; ne spared not 

Their dainty parts, which nature had cre- 
ated 

So faire and tender without staine or spot 

For other uses then they them translated ; 

Which they now hackt and hewd as if 
such use they hated. 



As when a Tygre and a Lionesse 
Are met at spoyling of some hungry pray, 
Both challenge it with equall greed inesse : 
But first the Tygre dawes thereon did lay, 
And therefore, loth to loose her right away, 
Doth in defence thereof full stoutly stond : 
To which the Lion strongly doth gainesay. 



That she to hunt the beast first tooke in 

bond ; 
And therefore ought it have where ever she 

it fond. 

XXXI. 

Full fiercely layde the Amazon about, 
And dealt her blowes unmercifully sore ; 
Which Britomart withstood with courage 

stout. 
And them repaide againe with double 

more. 
So long they fought, that all the grassie 

tlore 
Was fild with blond Avhich from their sides 

did riow. 
And gushed through their armes, that all 

in gore 
They trode, and on the ground their lives 

did strow, 
Like fruitles seede, of which untimely 

death should grow. 

XXXII. 

At last proud Radigund, with fell de- 

spight. 
Having by channce espide advantage 

neare. 
Let drive at her with all her dreadfull 

might, 
And thus upbrayding said : ' This token 

beare 
Unto the man whom thou doest love so 

deare ; 
And tell him for his sake thy life thou 

gavest.' 
Which spitefull words she, sore engriev'd 

to heare. 
Thus answer'd : ' Lewdly thou my love 

depravest, 
AVho shortly must repent that now so 

vainely bravest.' 

XXXIII. 

Nath'lesse that stroke so cruell passage 

found, 

That glauncingon her shoulder-plate it bit 

Unto the bone, and made a griesly wound. 

That she her shield, through raging smart 

of it. 
Could scarce uphold : yet soone she it re- 
quit ; 
For, having force increast througlf furious 

paine. 
She her so rudely on the helmet smit 
That it empierced to the very braine, 
And her proud person low prostrated on 
the plaine. 

XXXIV. 

Where being layd, the wrothfull Briton- 

esse 



414 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



( 



Stayd not till she came to her sell'e againe, 
But in revenge both of her loves distresse 
And her late vile reproch though vaunted 

vaine, 
And also of her wound which sore did 

paine, 
She with one stroke both head and helmet 

cleft. 
Which dreadfull sight when all her war- 
like traine 
There present saw, each one of seuce bereft 
Fled fast into the towne, and her sole 
victor left. 



But yet so fast they could not home re- 

trate, 
But that swift Talus did the formost win ; 
And, pressing through the preace unto the 

gate, 
Pelmell with them attonce did enter in. 
There then a piteous slaughter did begin ; 
For all that ever came within his reach 
He with his yron flale did thresh so thin. 
That he no worke at all left for the leach : 
Like to an hideous storme, which nothing 

may empeach. 



And now by this the noble Conqueresse 
Her selfe came in, her glory to partake ; 
Where, though revengefuU vow she did 

prof esse, 
Yet when she saw the heapes which he did 

make 
Of slaughtred carkasses, her heart did 

quake 
For very ruth, which did it almost rive. 
That she his fury willed him to slake : 
For else he sure had left not one alive, 
But all, in his revenge, of spirite would 

deprive. 

XXXVII. 

Tho, when she had his execution stayd, 
She for that yron prison did enquire, 
In which her wretched love was captive 

layd: 
Which breaking open with indignant ire. 
She entred into all the partes entire : 
Where w^hen she saw that lothly uncouth 

sight 
Of men disguiz'd iu-woraanishe attire, 
Her heart gan grudge for very deepe 

despight 
Of so unmanly maske in misery misdight. 

xxxvni. 
At last when as to her owne Love she 
came, 
Whom like disguize no lesse deformed had, 



At sight thereof abasht with secrete shame 
She turnd her head aside, as nothing glad 
To have beheld a spectacle so bad ; 
And then too well believ'd that which 

tofore 
Jealous suspect as true untruely drad : 
Which value conceipt now nourishing no 

more, 
She sought with ruth to salve his sad mis- 
fortunes sore. 

xxxix. 

Not so great wonder and astonishment 
Did the most chast Penelope possesse 
To see her Lord, that was reported drent 
And dead long since in dolorous distresse. 
Come home to her in piteous wretched- 

nesse. 
After long travell of full twenty yeares. 
That she knew not his favours likelynesse, 
For many scarres and many hoary heaves. 
But stood long staring on him niongst 
uncertaine feares. 



' Ah, my deare Lord ! what sight is 

this? ' quoth she, 
' What May-game hath misfortune made 

of you ? 
Where is that dreadfull manly looke? 

where be 
Those mighty palmes, the which ye wont 

t' embrew 
In bloud of Kings, and great hoastes to 

subdew ? 
Could ought on earth so wondrous change 

have wrought. 
As to have robde you of that manly hew ? 
Could so great courage stouped have to 

ought ? 
Then, farewell fleshly force ! I see thy 

j)ride is nought.' 



Thenceforth she streight into a bowre 

him brought. 
And causd him those uncomely weedes 

undight ; 
And in their steede for other rayment 

sought. 
Whereof there was great store, and ar- 
mors bright. 
Which had bene reft from many a noble 

Knight, 
Whom that proud Amazon subdewed had, 
Whilest Fortune favourd her successe in 

fight : 
In which when as she him anew had clad. 
She was reviv'd, and joyd much in his 

semblance glad. 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



415 



So there a while they afterwards re- 
mained, 
Him to refresh, and her late wounds to 

heale : 
During which space she there as Princess 

rained. 
And changing all that forme of common- 

weale 
The liberty of women did repeale, 
AV'hich they had long usurpt: and, them 

restoring 
To mens subjection, did true Justice deale, 
That all they, as a Goddesse her adoring. 
Her wisedome did admire, and hearkned to 
her loriug. 

XLIII. 

For all those Knights, which long in 

captive shade 
Had shrowded bene, she did from thral- 

dome free, 
And magistrates of all that city made, 
And gave to them great living and large 

fee: 
And that they should for ever faithf nil bee, 
Made them sweare fealty to Artegall ; 
Who when him selfe now well recur'd did 

see. 
He purposd to proceed, what so befall, 



Uppou his first adventure which him forth 
did call. 



Full sad and sorrowfull was Britomart 
For his departure, her new cause of griefe ; 
Yet wisely moderated her owue smart, 
Seeing his honor, which she tendred chiefe, 
Consisted much in that adventures priele : 
The care whereof, and hope of his successe, 
Gave unto her great comfort and relief e ; 
That womanish complaints she did re- 

presse. 
And tempred for the time her present 

heaviuesse. 



There she coutiuu'd for a certaine space, 
Till through his want her woe did more 

increase : 
Then hoping that the change of aire and 

place 
Would change her paine, and sorrow 

somewhat ease. 
She parted thence her anguish to appease. 
Meane-while her noble Lord, sir Artegall, 
Went on his way; ne ever howre did 

cease. 
Till he redeemed had that Lady thrall : 
That for another Canto will more fitly fall. 



CANTO VIIL 



Prince Arthure and Sir Artegall 
Free Samient from feare : 

They slay the Soudan, drive his wife 
Adicia to despaire. 



I. 



Nought under heaven so strongly doth 
allure 
The sence of man, and all his minde pos- 

sesse. 
As beauties lovely baite, that doth procure 
Great warriours oft their rigour to re- 

presse. 
And mighty hands forget their manli- 

nesse ; 
Drawne with the powre of an heart- 
robbing eye. 
And wrapt in fetters of a golden tresse, 
That can with melting pleasaunce moUifye 
Their hardned hearts, enur'd to bloud and 
cruelty. 

II. 

So whylome learnd that mighty Jewish 

swaine. 
Each of whose lockes did match a man in 

might. 
To lay his spoiles before his lemans traine : 



So also did that great Oetean Knight 
For his loves sake his Lions skin undight; 
And so did warlike Antony neglect 
The worlds whole rule for Cleopatras 

sight. 
Such wondrous powre hath wemens faire 

aspect 
To captive men, and make them all the 

world reject. 



Yet could it not sterne Artegall retaine, 
Nor hold from suite of his avowed quest. 
Which he had undertane to Gloriane ; 
But left his love, albe her strong request, 
Faire Britomart in languor and unrest. 
And rode him selfe uppon his first intent, 
Ne day nor night did ever idly rest; 
Ne wight but onely Talus with him 

went. 
The true guide of his way and vertuous 

government. 



4i6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



So travelling, he chaunst far off to heed 
A Damzell, tlyiiig on a palfrey fast 
Before two Knights that after her did 

speed 
With all their powre, and her full fiercely 

chast 
In hope to have her overhent at last: 
Yet fled she fast, and both them farre 

outwent, 
Carried with wings of feare, like fowle 

aghast, 
With locks all loose, and rayment all to- 
rent ; 
And ever as she rode her eye was backe- 
ward bent. 

V. 

Soone after these he saw another 

Knight, 
That after those two former rode apace 
With speare in rest, and prickt with all 

his might : 
So ran they all, as they had bene at bace, 
They being chased that did others chase. 
At length he saw the hindmost overtake 
One of those two, and force him turne his 

face; 
However loth he were his way to slake. 
Yet mote he algates now abide, and an- 

swere make. 



But th' other still pursu'd the fearefull 

Mayd ; 
Who still from him as fast away did flie, 
Ne once for ought her speedy passage 

stayd. 
Till that at length she did before her spie 
Sir Artegall ; to whom she straight did hie 
With gladfull hast, in hope of him to get 
Succour against her greedy enimy : 
AVho seeing her approch gan forward set 
To save her from her feare, and him from 

force to let. 

VII. 

But he, like hound full greedy of his 

pray. 
Being impatient of impediment, 
Continu'd still his course, and by the way 
Thought with his speare him quight have 

overwent. 
So both together, ylike felly bent. 
Like fiercely met. But Artegall was 

stronger, 
And better ski Id in Tilt and Turnament, 
And bore him quite out of his saddle, 

longer 
Then two speares length : So mischiefe 

overmatcht the wronger. 



And in his fall misfortune him mistooke ; 
For on his head unhappily he pight, 
That his owne waight his necke asuuder 

broke, 
And left there dead. Meane-while the 

other Knight 
Defeated had the other faytour quight, 
And all his bowels in his body brast: 
Whom leaving there in that dispiteous 

plight, 
He ran still on, thinking to follow fast 
His other fellow Pagan which before him 

past. 

IX. 

Instead of whom finding there ready 

prest 
Sir Artegall, without discretion 
He at him ran with ready speare in rest ; 
Who, seeing him come still so fiercely on, 
Against him made againe. So both anon 
Together met, and strongly either strooke 
And broke their speares ; yet neither has 

forgon 
His horses backe, yet to and fro long 

shooke 
And tottred, like two towres which 

through a tempest quooke. 



But, when againe they had recovered 

sence, 
They drew their swords, in mind to make 

amends 
For what their speares had fayld of their 

pretence : 
Which when the Damzell, who those 

deadly ends 
Of both her foes had scene, and now her 

frends 
For her beginning a more fearefull fray, 
She to them runnes in hast, and her haire 

rends. 
Crying to them their cruell hands to stay, 
Untill they both doe heare what she to 

them will say. 

XI. 

They stayd their hands, when she thus 
gan to speake : 

* Ah gentle Knights ! what meane ye thus 
unwise 

Upon your selves anothers wrong to 
wreake ? 

I am the wrong'd, whom ye did enter- 
prise 

Both to redresse, and both redrest like- 
wise : 

Witnesse the Paynims both, whom ye 
may see 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE OUEENE. 



417 



There dead on ground. What doe ye then 
devise 

Of more revenge? if more, then I am 
shee 

Which was the roote of all : end your re- 
venge on mee.' 



Whom when they heard so say, they 

lookt about 
To Aveete if it were true as she had told ; 
Where when they saw their foes dead out 

of doubt, 
Eftsoones they gan their wrothfull hands 

to hold, 
And Ventailes reareeach other to behold. 
Tho when as Artegall did Arthure vew, 
So faire a creature and so wondrous bold. 
He much admired both his heart and hew. 
And touched with iutire affection nigh 

him drew; 

XIII. 

Saying, ' Sir Knight, of pardon I you 
pray, , 

That all unweeting have you wrong'd 
thus sore, 

Suifring my hand against my heart to 
stray ; 

Which if ye please forgive, I will there- 
fore 

Yeeld for amends my selfe yours ever- 
more. 

Or what so penaunce shall by you be red.' 

To Avhom the Prince : ' Certes me needeth 
more 

To crave the same ; whom errour so mis- 
led, 

As that I did mistake the living for the 
ded. 

XIV. 

' But, sith ye please that both our 
blames shall die. 
Amends may for the trespasse soone be 

made, 
Since neither is endamadg'd much there- 
by.' 
So can they both them selves full eath 

perswade 
To faire accordaunce, and both faults to 

shade. 
Either embracing other lovingly, 
And swearing faith to either on his blade. 
Never thenceforth to nourish enmity. 
But either others cause to maintaine 
mutually. 

XV. 

Then Artegall gan of the Prince en- 
quire. 
What were those knights which there on 
ground were layd, 



And had receiv'd their follies worthy hire, 
And for what cause they chased so that 

Mayd ? 
' Certes I wote not well,' (the Prince then 

sayd) 
' But by adventure found them faring so, 
As by the way unweetingly I strayd : 
And lo! the Damzell selfe, whence all 

did grow, 
Of whom we may at will the whole occa- 
sion know.' 

XVI. 

Then they that Damzell called to them 

nie. 
And asked her what were those two her 

fone, 
From whom she earst so fast away did 

flie: 
And what was she her selfe so woe-be- 

gone. 
And for what cause pursu'd of them at- 

tone. 
To whom she thus : ' Then wote ye well, 

that I 
Doe serve a Queene that not far hence 

doth wone, 
A Princesse of great powre and majestie, 
Famous through all the world, and hon- 
or 'd far and nie. 

XVII. 

' Her name Mercilla most men use to 

call ; 
That is a mayden Queene of high renowne, 
For her great bounty knowen over all 
And soveraine grace, with which her roy- 

all crown e 
She doth support, and strongly beateth 

downe 
The malice of her foes, which her envy 
And at her happinesse do fret and frowne ; 
Yet she her selfe the more doth magnify, 
And even to her foes her mercies multiply. 



' Mongst many which maligne her happy 

state. 
There is a mighty man, which wonues 

hereby. 
That with most fell despight and deadly 

hate 
Seekes to subvert her Crowne and dignity, 
And all his powre doth thereunto apply: 
And her good Knights, of which so brave 

a band 
Serves her as any Princesse under sky, 
He either spoiles, if they against him 

stand. 
Or to his part allures, and bribeth under 

hand. 



4i8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



' Ne him sufficeth all the wrong and ill, 
Which he uuto her people does each day ; 
But that he seekes by traytrous traines 

to spill 
Her person, and her sacred selfe to slay : 
That, O ye Heavens, defend! and turne 

away 
From her unto the miscreant him selfe; 
That neither hath religion nor fay. 
But makes his God of his ungodly pelfe, 
And Idols serves: so let his Idols serve 

the Elfe! 

XX. 

* To all which cruell tyranny, they say, 
He is provokt, and stird up day and night 
By his bad wife that bight Adicia ; 

Who counsels him, through contideuce of 

might, 
To breake all bonds of law and rules of 

right : 
For she her selfe professeth raortall foe 
To Justice, and against her still doth fight. 
Working to all that love her deadly woe, 
And making all her Knights and people 

to doe so. 

XXI. 

* Which my liege Lady seeing, thought 

it best 
With that his wife in friendly wise to 

deale, 
For stint of strife and stablishment of 

rest 
Both to her selfe and to her common- 

weale. 
And all forepast displeasures to repeale. 
So me in message uuto her she sent, 
To treat with her, by way of enterdeale, 
Of finall peace and faire attonement 
Which might concluded be by mutuall 

consent. 

XXII. 

' All times have wont safe passage to 
afford 
To messengers that come for causes just: 
But this proude Dame, disdayning all ac- 
cord. 
Not onely into bitter termes forth brust. 
Reviling me and rayling as she lust. 
But lastly, to make proofe of utmost 

shame, 
Me like a dog she out of dores did thrust, 
Miscalling me by many a bitter name. 
That never did her ill, ne once deserved 
blame. 

xxni. 
' And lastly, that no shame might want- 
ing be. 
When I was gone, soone after me she sent 



These two false Knights, whom there ye 

lying see. 
To be by tliem dishonoured and shent : 
But, thankt be God, and your good hardi- 

ment, 
They have the price of their owne folly 

payd.' 
So said this Damzell, that bight Samient; 
And to those knights for their so noble 

ayd 
Her selfe most gratefull shew'd, and 

heaped thanks repay d. 

XXIV. 

But they now having throughly heard 

and seene 
Al those great wrongs, the which that 

mayd complained 
To have bene done against her Lady 

Queeue 
By that proud dame which her so much 

disdained. 
Were moved much thereat; and twixt 

them fained 
With all their force to worke avengement 

strong 
Uppon the Souldau selfe, which it mayn- 

tained, 
And on his Lady, th' author of that 

wrong, 
And uppon all those Knights that did to 

her belong. 

XXV. 

But, thinking best by counterfet dis- 
guise 
To their deseigne to make the easier 

way. 
They did this complot twixt them selves 

devise : 
First, that Sir Artegall should him array 
Like one of those two Knights which 

dead there lay ; 
And then that Damzell, the sad Samient, 
Should as his purchast prize with him 

convay 
Unto the Souldans court, her to present 
Unto his scornefull Lady that for her had 
sent. 

XXVI. 

So as they had deviz'd. Sir Artegall 
Him clad in th' armour of a Pagan knight, 
And taking with him, as his vanquisht 

thrall. 
That Damzell, led her to the Souldans 

right : 
Where soone as his proud wife of her had 

sight. 
Forth of her window as she looking lay, 
She weened streight it was her Paynim 

Knight, 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



419 



Which brought that Damzel.l as his pur- 

chast pray ; 
And sent to him a Page that mote direct 

his way. 

XXVII. 

Who bringing them to their appointed 

place, 
Off red his service to disarme the Knight; 
But he refusing him to let unlace, 
For doubt to be discovered by his sight, 
Kept himselfe still in hisstra'unge armour 

dight : 
Soone after whom the Prince arrived 

there, 
And sending to the Souldan in despight 
A bold defyance, did of him requere 
That Damsell whom he held as wrougfull 

prisonere. 

XXVIII. 

Wherewith the Souldan all with furie 

fraught, 
Swearing and banning most blasphe- 
mously, 
Commaunded straight his armour to be 

brought; 
And, mounting straight upon a charret 

liye, 
(With yron wheeles and hookes arm'd 

dreadfully, 
And drawne of cruell steedes which he 

had fed 
AVith flesh of men, whom through fell 

tyranny 
He siaughtred had, and ere they were 

halfe ded 
Their bodies to his beastes for provender 

did spred,) 

XXIX. 

So forth he came, all in a cote of plate 
Burnisht with bloudie rust; whiles on the 

green e 
The Briton Prince him readie did awayte, 
In glistering armes right goodly well- 

beseene, 
That shone as bright as doth the heaven 

sheene : 
And by his stirrup Talus did attend. 
Playing his pages part, as he had beene 
Before directed by his Lord ; to th' end 
He should his flale to final execution 

bend. 

XXX. 

Thus goe they both together to their 
geare. 

With like fierce minds, but meanings dif- 
ferent ; 

For the proud Souldan, with presumpte- 
ous cheare 

A.nd countenance sublime and insolent 



Sought onely slaughter and avengement; 

But the brave Prince for honour and for 
right, 

Gainst tortious powre and lawlesse regi- 
ment, 

In the behalfe of wronged weake did 
fight: 

More in his causes truth he trusted then 
in might. 

XXXI. 

Like to the Thracian Tyrant, who they 

say 
Unto his horses gave his guests for meat, 
Till he himselfe was made their greedie 

pi-ay. 
And torne in pieces by Alcides great; 
So thought the Souldan, in his follies 

threat, 
Either the Prince in peeces to have torne 
With his sharp wheeles, in his first rages 

heat, 
Or under his fierce horses feet have borne, 
And trampled downe in dust his thoughts 

disdained scorne. 



But the bold child that perill well espy- 
ing, 
If he too rashly to his charet drew, 
Gave way unto his horses speedie flying, 
And their resistlesse rigour did eschew: 
Yet, as he passed by, the Pagan threw 
A shivering dart with so impetuous force. 
That had he not it shun'd with heedful! 

vew. 
It had himselfe transfixed or his horse, 
Or made them both one masse withouten 
more remorse. 

XXXIII. 

Oft drew the Prince unto his charret 

nigh. 
In hope some stroke to fasten on him 

neare. 
But he was mounted in his seat so high, 
And his wingfooted coursers him did beare 
So last away that, ere his readie speare 
He could advance, he farre was gone and 

past : 
Yet still he him did follow every where. 
And followed was of him likewise full 

fast. 
So long as in his steedes the flaming 

breath did last. 

XXXIV. 

Againe the Pagan threw another dart, 
Of which he had with him abundant store 
On every side of his embatteld cart, 
And of all other weapons lesse or more, 



420 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Which warlike uses had deviz'd of yore : 
The wicked shaft, guyded througli th' 

ayrie wyde 
By some bad spirit that it to mischiefe 

bore, 
Stayd not, till through his curat it did 

glyde, 
And made a griesly wound in his enriven 

side. 

XXXV. 

Much was he grieved with that haplesse 

throe, 
That opened had the welspring of his 

blood ; 
But much the more, that to his hatef ull foe 
He mote not come to wreake hisM^rathfull 

mood : 
That made him rave, like to a Lyon wood. 
Which being wounded of the huntsmans 

hand 
Cannot come neare him in the covert wood, 
Where he with boughes hath built his 

shady stand, 
And fenst himselfe about with many a 

flaming brand. 



Still when he sought t' approch unto 

him ny 
His char ret wheeles about him whirled 

round, 
And made him backe againe as fast to fly ; 
And eke his steedes, like to an hungry 

hound 
That hunting after game hath carrion 

found. 
So cruelly did him pursew and chace. 
That his good steed, all were he much re- 

nound 
For noble courage and for bardie race. 
Durst not endure their sight, but fled from 

place to place. 

XXXVII. 

Thus long they trast and traverst to and 

fro, 
Seeking by every way to make some 

breach ; 
Yet could the Prince not nigh unto him 

goe, 
That one sure stroke he might unto him 

reach. 
Whereby his strengthes assay he might 

him teach. 
At last from his victorious shield he drew 
The vaile, which did his powrefull light 

empeach, 
And comming full before his horses vew. 
As they upon him prest, it plaine to them 

did shew. 



XXXVIII. 

Like lightening flash that hath the gazer 

burned, 
So did the sight thereof their sense dismay, 
That backe againe upon themselves they 

turned, 
And with their ryder ranne perforce away : 
Ne could the Souldan them from flying 

stay 
With raynes or wonted rule, as well he 

knew : 
Nought feared they what he could do or 

say, 
But th' ouely feare that was before their 

vew. 
From which like mazed deare dismay fully 

they flew. 

XXXIX. 

Fast did they fly as them their feete 

could beare 
High over hilles, and lowly over dales. 
As they were foUow'd of their former 

feare. 
In vaiue the Pagan bannes, and sweares, 

and rayles. 
And backe with both his hands unto him 

hayles 
The resty raynes, regarded now no more : 
He to them calles and speakes, yet nought 

avayles ; 
They heare him not, they have forgot his 

lore. 
But go which way they list, their guide 

they have forlore. 

XL. 

As when the firie-mouthed steedes, 
which drew 
The Sunnes bright wayne to Phaetons 

decay, 
Soone as they did the monstrous Scorpion 

vew 
With ugly craples crawling in their way. 
The dreadfull sight did them so soreaffray. 
That their well-knowen courses they for- 
went ; 
And, leading th' ever-burning lampe 

astray. 
This lower world nigh all to ashes brent. 
And left their scorched path yet in the 
tirmament. 

XLI. 

Such was the furie of these head-strong 

steeds, 
Soone as the infants sunlike shield they 

saw. 
That all obedience both to words and 

deeds 
They quite forgot, and scornd all former 

law: 



CANTO VI II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



421 



Through woods, and rocks, and moun- 

taines they did draw 
The yron charet, and the wheeles did 

teare, 
And tost the Payuim without feare or 

awe; 
From side to side they tost him here and 

there, 
Crying- to them in vaine that uould his 

crying heare. 

XLII. 

Yet still the Prince pursew'd him close 

hehind, 
Oft making offer him to smite, but found 
No easie meanes according to his mind: 
At last they have all overthrowue to 

ground 
Quite topside turvey, and the Pagan 

hound 
Amongst the yron hookes and graples 

keeue 
Torne all to rags, and rent with many a 

wound ; 
That no whole peece of him was to be 

scene. 
But scattred all about, and strow'd upon 

the greene. 

XLIII. 

Like as the cursed son of Theseus, 
That following his chace in dewy morne, 
To tiy his stepdames loves outrageous. 
Of his owne steedes was all to peaces 

torne, 
And his faire limbs left in the woods for- 

lorne ; 
That for his sake Diana did lament, 
And all the wooddy Nymphes did wayle 

and mourne. 
So was this Souldan rapt and all to-rent. 
That of his shape appear'd no litle moni- 

meut. 

xLiy. 

Onely his shield and armour, which 

there lay. 
Though nothing whole, but all to-brusd 

and broken. 
He up did take, and with him brought 

away, 
That mote remaine for an eternall token 
To all mongst whom this storie should be 

spoken, 
How worthily, by heavens high decree. 
Justice that day of wrong her selfe had 

wroken ; 
That all men, which that spectacle did 

see. 
By like ensample mote for ever warned 

bee. 



So on a tree before the Tyrants dore 
He caused them be hung in all mens 

sight. 
To be a nioniment for evermore. 
Which when his Ladie from the castles 

hight 
Beheld, it much appald her troubled 

spright : 
Yet not, as women wont, in dolefull fit 
She was dismayd, or faynted through 

affright. 
But gathered unto her her troubled wit. 
And gau eftsoones devize to be aveng'd 

for it. 

XLVI. 

Streight downe she ranne, like an en- 
raged cow 
That is berobbed of her youngling dere, 
With knife in hand, and fatally did 

vow 
To wreake her on that mayden messen- 

gere, 
Whom she had causd be kept as prisonere 
By Artegall, niisween'd for her owne 

Knight, 
That brought her backe: And, comming 

present there, 
She at her ran with all her force and might. 
All flaming with revenge and furious de- 
spight. 

XLVII. 

Like raging Ino, when with knife in 

hand 
She threw her husbands murdred infant 

out; 
Or fell Medea, when on Colchicke strand 
Her brothers bones she scattered all about ; 
Or as that madding mother, mongst the 

rout 
Of Bacchus Priests, her owne deare flesh 

did teare : 
Yet neither Ino. nor Medea stout. 
Nor all the Mffiuades so furious were. 
As this bold woman when she saw that 

Damzell there. 

XLVIII. 

But Artegall, being thereof aware. 
Did stay her cruell hand ere she her 

raught ; 
And, as she did her selfe to strike pre- 
pare, 
Out of her fist the wicked weapon caught : 
With that, like one enfelon'd or dis- 
traught. 
She forth did rome whether her rage her 

bore, 
With franticke passion aud with furie 
fraught ; 



422 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And, breaking of or th out at a posterne 

dore, 
Unto the wyld wood ranne, her dolours to 

deplore. 

XLIX. 

As a mad bytch, when as the franticke 

fit 
Her burning tongue with rage inflamed 

hath, 
Doth runne at randon, and with furious 

bit 
Snatching at every thing doth wreake her 

wrath 
On man and beast that commeth in her 

path. 
There they doe say that she transformed 

was 
Into a Tygre, and that Tygres scath 
In erueltie and outrage she did pas. 
To prove her surname true, that she im- 
posed has. 

L. 

Then Artegall, himselfe discovering 

plaine, 
Did issue forth gainst all that warlike 

rout 
Of knights and armed men, which did 

maintaine 



That Ladies part, and to the Souldan lout : 

All which he did assault with courage 
stout, 

All were they nigh an hundred knights of 
name. 

And like wyld Goates them chaced all 
about, 

Flying from place to place with cowheard 
shame ; 

So that with finall force them all he over- 
came. 



Then caused he the gates be opened 
wyde; 

And there the Prince, as victour of that 
day, 

With tryumph entertayn'd and glorifyde. 

Presenting him with all the rich array 

And roiall pompe, which there long hid- 
den lay, 

Purchast through lawlesse powre and tor- 
tious wrong 

Of that proud Souldan whom he earst did 
slay. 

So both, for rest, there having stayd not 
long, 

Marcht with that mayd ; tit matter for 
another song. 



CANTO IX. 

Arthur and Artegall catch Guyle, 
"Whom Talus doth dismay: 

They to Mercillaes pallace come, 
And see hei- rich array. 



I. 



What Tygre, or what other salvage 

wight, 
Is so exceeding furious and fell 
As wrong, when it hath arm'd it selfe 

with might? 
Not fit mongst men that doe with reason 

mell, 
But mongst wyld beasts, and salvage 

woods, to dwell ; 
Where still the stronger doth the weake 

devoure. 
And they that most in boldnesse doe ex- 
cell 
Are dreadded most, and feared for their 

powre ; 
Fit for Adicia there to build her wicked 

bowre. 

II. 
There let her wonne, farre from resort 

of men, 
Where righteous Artegall her late exyled ; 
There let her ever keepe her damned 

den, 



Where none may be with her lewd parts 

defy led. 
Nor none but beasts may be of her de- 

spoyled ; 
And turne we to the noble Prince, where 

late 
We did him leave, after that he had foyled 
The cruell Souldan, and with dreadfull 

fate 
Had utterly subverted his unrighteous 

state. 



Where having with Sir Artegall a space 
Well solast in that Souldans late delight. 
They both, resolving now to leave the 

place, 
Both it and all the wealth therein behight 
Unto that Damzell in her Ladies right. 
And so would have departed on their way ; 
But she them woo'd, by all the meanes she 

might. 
And earnestly besought to wend that day 
With her, to see her Ladie thence not 

farre away. 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



423 



By whose entreatie both they overeom- 

men 
Agree to goe with her; and by the way, 
(As often falles) of sundry things did 

commen : 
Mongst which that Damzell did to them 

bewray 
A straunge adventure, which not farre 

thence lay ; 
To weet, a wicked villaine, bold and stout. 
Which wonned in a rocke not farre av/ay, 
That robbed all the countrie there about. 
And brought the pillage home, whence 

none could get it out. 



Thereto both his owne wylie wit, (she 

sayd) 
And eke the fastnesse of his dwelling 

place, 
But unassaylable, gave him great ayde: 
For he so crafty was to forge and face, 
So light of hand, and nymble of his pace, 
So smooth of tongue, and subtile in his 

tale. 
That could deceive one looking in his face : 
Therefore by name Malengin they him 

call. 
Well knowen by his feates, and famous 

overall. 

VI. 

Through these his slights he many doth 

confound : 
And eke the rocke, in which he wonts to 

dwell. 
Is wondrous strong and hewen farre under 

ground, 
A dreadfull depth ; how deepe no man can 

tell, 
But some doe say it goeth downe to hell : 
And all within it full of wyndings is 
And hidden wayes, that scarse an hound 

by smell 
Can follow out those false footsteps of 

his, 
Ne none can backe returne that once are 

gone amis. 

VII. 

Which when those knights had heard, 

their harts gan earne 
To understand that villeins dwelling place, 
And greatly it desir'd of her to learne, 
And by which way they towards it should 

trace. 
' Were not ' (sayd she) ' that it should let 

your pace 
Towards my Ladies presence, by you 

ment, 
I would you guyde directly to the place.' 



' Then let not that ' (said they) ' stay your 

intent ; 
For neither will one foot, till we that carle 

have hent.' 

VIII. 

So forth they past, till they approched 

ny 

Unto the rocke where was the villains 

won: 
Which when the Damzell neare at hand 

did spy, 
She warn'd the knights thereof; who 

thereupon 
Gan to advize what best were to be done. 
So both agreed to send that mayd afore. 
Where she might sit nigh to the den alone, 
Wayling, and raysing pittifull uprore. 
As if she did some great calamitie deplore. 

IX. 

With noyse whereof when as the cay five 

carle 
Should issue forth, in hope to find some 

spoyle, 
They in awayt would closely him ensnarle. 
Ere to his den he backward could recoyle, 
And so would hope him easily to foyle. 
The Damzell straight went, as she was 

directed, 
Unto the rocke ; and there, upon the soyle 
Having her selfe in wretched wize ab- 

jected, 
Gan weepe and wayle, as if great griefe 

had her affected. 



The cry whereof entring the hollow cave 
Eftsoones brought forth the villaine, as 

they ment, 
AVith hope of her some wishfull boot to 

have. 
Full dreadfull wight he was as ever went 
Upon the earth, with hollow eyes deepe 

pent, 
And long curld locks that downe his 

shoulders shagged ; 
And on his backe an uncouth vestiment 
Made of straunge stuffe, but all to-worne 

and ragged. 
And underneath, his breech was all to- 
torn e and jagged. 



And in his hand an huge long staffe he 
held. 
Whose top was arm'd with many an yron 

hooke, 
Fit to catch hold of all that he could weld. 
Or in the corapasse of his douches tooke ; 
And ever round about he cast his looke : 



424 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Als at his backe a great wyde net he bore, 
AVith which he seldome fished at the 

brooke, 
But usd to fish for fooles on the dry shore, 
Of which he in faire weather wout to take 

great store. 



Him when the damzell saw fast by her 

side, 
So ugly creature, she was nigh dismayd. 
And now for helpe aloud in earnest cride : 
But when the villaine saw her so affrayd, 
He gan with guilefull words her to per- 

swade 
To banish feare; and, with Sardonian 

srayle 
Laughing on her, his false intent to shade, 
Ganforth to lay his bayte her to beguyle, 
That from her self unwares he might her 

steale the whyle. 



Like as the fouler on his guilefull pype 
Charmes to the birds full many a pleasant 

That they the whiles may take lesse heedie 

keepe 
How he his nets doth for their mine lay : 
So did the villaine to her prate and play. 
And many pleasant trickes before her 

show. 
To turne her eyes from his intent away ; 
For he in slights and jugling feates did 

fiow, 
And of legierdemayne the mysteries did 

know. 

XIV. 

To which whilest she lent her intentive 

mind. 
He suddenly his net upon her threw. 
That oversprad her like a puffe of wind ; 
And snatching her soone up, ere well she 

knew. 
Ran with her fast away unto his mew. 
Crying for helpe aloud: But when as ny 
He came unto his cave, and there did vew 
The armed knights stopping his passage 

by, 
He threw his burden downe, and fast 

away did fly. 



But Artegall him after did pursew. 
The whiles the Prince there kept the 

entrance still. 
Up to the rocke he ran, and thereon 

flew 
Like a wyld Gote, leaping from hill to hill, 
And dauncing on the craggy cliffes at will : 



That deadly daunger seem'd in all mehs 

sight 
To tempt such steps, where footing was so 

ill; 
Ne ought avayled for the armed knight 
To thinke to follow him that was so swift 

and light. 

XVI. 

AYhich when he saAv, his yron man he 

sent 
To follow him ; for he was swift in chace. 
He him pursewd where ever that he went ; 
Both over rockes, and hilles, and every 

place 
Where so he fled, he followd him apace ; 
So that he shortly forst him to forsake 
The hight, and downe descend unto the 

base : 
There he him courst a-fresh, and soone 

did make 
To leave his proper forme, and other shape 

to take. 

XVII. 

Into a Foxe himselfe he first did tourne ; 
But he him hunted like a Foxe full fast : 
Then to a bush himselfe he did trausforme ; 
But he the bush did beat, till that at last 
Into a bird it chaung'd, and from him 

past. 
Flying from tree to tree, from wand to 

v.and ; 
But he then stones at it so long did cast. 
That like a stone it fell upon the land; 
But he then tooke it up, and held fast in 

his hand. 

XVIII. 

So he it brought with him unto the 

knights, 
And to his Lord Sir Artegall it lent, 
Warning him hold it fast for feare of 

slights : 
Who whilest in hand it gryping hard he 

bent. 
Into a Hedgehogge all unwares it went. 
And prickt him'so tluit he away it threw: 
Then ganne it runne away incontinent, 
Being returned to his former hew ; 
But Talus soone him overtooke, and back- 
ward drew. 

xix. 
But, when as he would to a snake againe 
Have turn'd himselfe, he with his yron 

flayle 
Gan drive at him with so huge might and 

maine. 
That all his bones as small as sandy grayle 
He broke, and did his bowels disentrayle, 
Crying in vaine for helpe, when helpe wa3 

past : 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



425 



So did deceipt the selfe-deceiver fayle. 
There they him left a carrion outcast 
For beasts and foules to feede upon for 
their repast. 

XX. 

Thence forth they passed with that gen- 
tle Mayd 

To see her Ladie, as they did agree ; 

To which when she approched, thus she 
sayd : 

' Loe! now, right noble knights, arriv'd 
ye bee 

Nigh to the place which ye desir'd to see: 

There shall ye see my soverayne Lady 
Queene, 

Most sacred wight, most debonayre and 
free, 

That ever yet upon this earth was seene. 

Or that with Diademe hath ever crowned 
beene.' 

XXI. 

The gentle knights rejoyced much to 

heare 
The prayses of that Prince so manifold ; 
And, passing litle further, commen were 
Where they a stately pallace did behold 
Of pompo.us show, much more then she 

had told ; 
With many towres, and tarras mounted 

hye. 
And all their tops bright glistering with 

gold, 
That seemed to outshine the dimmed skye, 
And with their brightnesse daz'd the 

straunge beholders eye. 



There they alighting by that damzell 
were 

Directed in, and shewed all the sight; 

Whose porch, that most maguificke did 
appeare, 

Stood open wyde to all men day and 
night ; 

Yet warded well by one of mickle might 

That sate thereby, with gyantlike resem- 
blance, 

To keepe out guyle, and malice, and de- 
spight, 

That under shew oftimes of fayned sem- 
blance 

Are wont in Princes courts to worke great 
scath and hindrance: 

XXIII. 

His name was Awe ; by whom they 

passing in 
Went up the hall, that was a large wyde 

roome, 
All full of people making troublous din 



And wondrous noyse, as if that there were 
some 

Which unto them was dealing righteous 
doome : 

By whom they passing through the thick- 
est preasse, 

The marshall of the hall to them did come. 

His name hight Order ; who, commaund- 
ing peace. 

Them guyded through the throng, that 
did their clamors ceasse. 

XXIV. 

They ceast their clamors upon them to 

gaze; 
Whom seeing all in armour bright as 

day, 
Straunge there to see, it did them much 

amaze. 
And with unwonted terror halfe affray. 
For never saw they there the like array; 
Ne ever was the name of warre there 

spoken. 
But joyous peace and quietnesse alway 
Dealing just judgements, that mote not be 

broken 
For any brybes, or threates of any to he 

wroken. 

XXV. 

There, as they entred at the Scrieue, 

they saw 
Some one whose tongue was for his tres- 

passe vyle 
Nayld to a post, adjudged so by law; 
For that therewith he falsely did revyle 
And foule blaspheme that Queene for 

forged guyle. 
Both with bold speaches which he blazed 

had 
And with lewd poems which he did com- 

pyle; 
For the bold title of a poet bad 
He on himselfe had ta'en, and rayliug 

rymes had sprad. 



Thus there he stood, whylest high over 
his head 
There written was the purport of his 

sin, 
In cyphers strange, that few could rightly 

read, 
Bon Font; but Bon, that once had writ- 
ten bin, 
Was raced out, and Mai was now put in: 
So now Mdlfoi/t was plainely to be red, 
P'.yther for Vh' evill which he did therein. 
Or that he likened was to a welhed 
Of evill words, and wicked sclaunders by 
him shed. 



426 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book V 



XXVII. 

They, passing by, were guyded by de- 
gree 
Unto the presence of that gratious 

Queeue ; 
Who sate on high, that she might all men 

see 
And might of all men royally he seene, 
Upon a throne of gold full bright and 

sheene, 
Adorned all with gemmes of endlesse 

price, 
As either might for wealth have gotten 

bene. 
Or -could be fram'd by workmans rare 

device ; 
And all embost with Lyons and with 

Flourdelice. 

XXVIII. 

All over her a cloth of state was spred, 
Not of rich tissew, nor of cloth of gold, 
Nor of ought else that may be richest 

red, 
But like a cloud, as likest may be told, 
That her brode-spreadiug wings did wyde 

unfold ; 
Whose skirts were bordred with bright 

sunny beames, 
Glistring like gold amongst the plights 

enrold. 
And here and there shooting forth silver 

streames, 
Mongst which crept litle Angels through 

the glittering gleames. 



Seemed those litle Angels did uphold 
The cloth of state, and on their purpled 

wings 
Did beare the pendants through their nim- 

blesse bold : 
Besides, a thousand more of such as sings 
Hymns to high God, and carols heavenly 

things, 
Encompassed the throne on which she 

sate, — 
She, Angel-like, theheyre of ancient kings 
And mightie Conquerors, in royall state, 
Whylest kings and kesars at her feet did 

them prostrate. 



Thus she did sit in soverayne Majestie, 
Holding a Scepter in her royall hand, 
The sacred pledge of peace and clemencie. 
With which high God had blest her happie 

land, 
Maugre so many foes which did with- 
stand : 



But at her feet her sword was likewise 

layde, 
WTiose long rest rusted the bright steely 

brand ; 
Yet when as foes enforst, or friends sought 

ayde. 
She could it sternely draw, thai all the 

world dismaj'de. 

XXXI. 

And round about before her feet there 

sate 
A bevie of faire Virgins clad in white. 
That goodly seem'd t' adorne her royall 

state ; 
All lovely daughters of high Jove, that 

hight 
Litae, by him begot in loves delight 
Upon the righteous Themis; those, they 

say, 
Upon Joves judgement-seat way t day and 

night; 
And, when in wrath he threats the worlds 

decay. 
They doe his anger calme, and cruell ven- 
geance stay. 



They also doe, by his divine permission, 
Upon "the thrones of mortall Princes tend. 
And often treat for pardon and remission 
To suppliants, through frayltie which 

oifend : 
Those did upon Mercillaes throne attend, 
Just Dice, wise Eunomie, myld Eirene ; 
And them amongst, her glorie to commend. 
Sate goodly Temperance in garments 

clene, 
And sacred Reverence yborne of heavenly 

strene. 

XXXIII. 

Thus did she sit in royall rich estate, 
Admyr'd of many, honoured of all ; 
AVhyiest underneath her feete, there as 

she sate, 
An huge great Lyon lay, that mote appall 
An bardie courage, like captived thrall 
With a strong yron chaine and coller 

bound. 
That once he could not move, nor quich 

at all ; 
Yet did he murmure with rebellious 

sound, 
And softly royne, when salvage choler 

gan redound. 



So sitting high in dreaded soverayntie, 
Those two strange knights were to her 
presence brought ; 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



427 



Who, bowiug low before her Majestic, 
Did to her uiyldobey.saiice, as they ought, 
And meekest boone that they Imagine 

mought: 
To whom she eke inclyning her withall, 
As a faire stoupe of her high soaring 

thought, 
A chearef ull countenance on them let fall. 
Yet tempred with some majestic imperiall. 

jxxv. 

As the bright sunne, what time his 

fierie tenie 
Towards the westerne brim begins to draw, 
Gins lo abate the brightnesse of his heme, 
And fervour of his flames somewhat adaw 
So did this mightie Ladie, when she saw 
Those two strange knights such homage 

to her make. 
Bate somewhat of that Majestic and awe 
That whylome wont to doe so many quake, 
And wath more myld aspect those two to 

entcrtake. 

XXXVI. 

Now at that instant, as occasion fell. 
When these two stranger knights arriv'd 

in place. 
She was about affaires of common-wele, 
Dealing with Justice with indifferent 

grace. 
And hearing pleas of people, meane and 

base: 
Mongst which, as then, there was for to 

be heard 
The tryall of a great and weightie case, 
W'hich on both sides was then debating 

hard ; 
But at the sight of these those were 

awhile debard. 



But, after all her princely entertayne. 
To th' hearing of that former cause in 

hand 
Her selfe eftsoones she gan convert 

again e : 
W^hich that those knights likewise mote 

understand. 
And witnesse fortli aright in forrain land, 
Taking them up unto her stately throne. 
Where they mote heare the matter 

throughly scand 
On either part, she placed th' one on th' 

one. 
The other on the other side, and neare 

them none. 



Then was there brought, as prisoner to 
the barre. 



A Ladie of great countenance and place. 
But that she it with foule abuse did marre ; 
Yet did appeare rare beautie in her face. 
But blotted with condition vile and base. 
That all her other honour did obscure. 
And titles of nobilitie deface: 
Yet in that wretched semblant she did 

sure 
The peoples great compassion unto her 

allure. 

XXXIX. 

Then up arose a person of deepe reach. 
And rare in-sight hard matters to revele ; 
That well could charme his tongue, and 

time his speach 
To all assayes ; his name was called Zele. 
He gan that Ladie strongly to appele 
Of many haynous crymes by her enured ; 
And with sharp reasons rang her such a 

pele, 
That those, whom she to pi tie had allured. 
He now t' abhorre and loath her person 

had procured. 



First gan he tell how this, that seem'd 

so faire 
And royally arayd, Duessa hight ; 
That false Duessa, which had wrought 

great care 
And mickle mischiefe unto many a knight. 
By her beguyled and confounded quight: 
But not for' those she now in question 

• came. 
Though also those mote question'd be 

aright. 
But for vyld treasons and outrageous 

shame. 
Which she against the dred Mercilla oft 

did frame. 

XLI. 

For she whylome (as ye mote yet right 

well 
Remember) had her counsels false con- 

spyred 
With faithlesse Blandamour and Paridell, 
(Both two her paramours, both by her 

by red. 
And both with hope of shadowes vaine 

inspyred) 
And with them practiz'd, how for to de- 

pryve 
Mercilla of her crowne, by her aspyred. 
That she might it unto her selfe deryve. 
And tryumph in their blood whom she to 

death did dryve. 



But through high heavens graci 
favour not 



which 



428 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



The wicked driftes of trayterous desynes 
Gainst loiall Princes, all this cursed plot, 
Ere proofe it tooke, discovered was be- 

tymes, 
And th' actours won the meede meet for 

their crynies. 
Such be the meede of all that by such 

mene 
Unto the type of kingdomes title clymes ! 
But false Duessa, now untitled Queene, 
Was brought to her sad doome, as here 

was to be seene. 

XLIII. 

Strongly did Zele her haynous fact en- 
force, 
And many other crimes of foule defame 
Against her brought, to banish all remorse, 
And aggravate the horror of her blame : 
And with him, to make part against her, 

came 
Many grave persons that against her pled. 
First was a sage old Syre, that had to 

name 
The Kingdomes Care, with a white silver 

hed, 
That many high regards and reasons 
gainst her red. 

XLIV. 

Then gan Authority her to appose 
With peremptorie powre, that made all 

mute ; 
And then the Law of Nations gainst' her 

rose. 
And reasons brought that no man could 

refute : 
Next gan Religion gainst her to impute 
High Gods beheast, and powre of holy 

lawes ; 
Then gan the Peoples cry and Commons 

sute 
Importune care of their owne publicke 

cause ; 
And lastly Justice charged her with 

breach of lawes. 

XLV. 

But then, for her, on the contrarie part, 
Rose many advocates for her to plead : 
First there came Pittie with full tender 

hart, 
And with her joyn'd Regard of woman- 
head ; 
And then came Daunger, threatning hid- 
den dread 
And high alliance unto forren powre; 
Then came Nobilitie of birth, that bread 
Great ruth through her misfortunes trag- 
icke stowre : 



And lastly Griefe did plead, and many 
teares forth powre. 



With the neare touch whereof in tender 
hart 
The Briton Prince was sore empassionate, 
And woxe inclined much unto her part. 
Through the sad terror of so dreadtull 

fate. 
And wretched mine of ^o high estate ; 
That for great ruth his courage gan re- 
lent: 
Which when as Zele perceived to abate, 
He gan his earnest fervour to augment, 
And many fearefull objects to them to 
present. 

XLVII. 

He gan t' efforce the evidence anew, 
And new accusements to produce in place : 
He brought forth that old hag of hellish 

hew. 
The cursed Ate, brought her face to face, 
Who privie was and partie in the case: 
She, glad of spoyle and ruinous decay, 
Did her appeach; and, to her more dis- 
grace, 
The plot of all her practise did display, 
And all her traynes and all her treasons 
forth did lay. 

XLVIII. 

Then brought he forth with griesly grim 
aspect 

Abhorred Murder, who, with bloudie 
knyfe 

Yet dropping fresh in hand, did her de- 
tect. 

And there with guiltie bloudshed charged 
ryfe: 

Then brought he forth Sedition, breeding 
stryfe 

In troublous wits, and mutinous uprore : 

Then brought he forth Incontinence of 

lyfe. 

Even foule Adulterie her face before, 
And lewd Impietie, that her accused sore. 



All of which when as the Prince had 
heard and seene, 
His former fancies ruth he gan repent. 
And from her partie ef tsoones was drawen 

cleene: 
But Artegall, with constant firme intent 
For zeale of Justice, was against her 

bent: 
So was she guiltie deemed of them all. 
Then Zele began to urge her punish- 
ment, 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



429 



And to their Queene for judgement loudly 

call, 
Unto Mercilla myld, for Justice gainst the 

thrall. 

L. 

But she, whose Princely brest was 

touched nere 
With piteous ruth of her so wretched 

plight, 
Though plaine she saw, by all that she did 

heare, 



That she of death was guiltie found by 

right, 
Yet would not let just vengeance on her 

light ; 
But rather let, instead thereof, to fall 
Few perling drops from her faire lampes 

of light ; 
The which she covering with her purple 

pall 
Would have the passion hid, and up arose 

withall. 



CANTO X. 

Prince Arthur takes the enterprize 

For Belgee for to fight: 
Gerioneos Seneschall 

He slayes in Beiges right. 



Some Clarkes doe doubt in their device- 
full art 
W'hether this heavenly thing whereof I 

treat, 
To weeten Mercie, be of Justice part. 
Or drawne forth from her by divine ex- 

treate : 
This well I wote, that sure she is as great, 
And meriteth to have as high a place, 
Sith in th' Almighties everlasting seat 
She first was bred, and borne of heavenly 

race. 
From thence pour'd down on men by in- 
fluence of grace. 



For if that Vertue be of so great might 
Which from just verdict will for nothing 

start. 
But to preserve in violated right 
Oft spilles the principall to save the part ; 
So much more, then, is that of powre and 

art 
That seekes to save the subject of her skill, 
Yet never doth from doome of right depart, 
As it is greater prayse to save then spill, 
And better to reforme then to cut off the 

ill. 

III. 

Who then can thee, Mercilla, throughly 
prayse. 
That herein doest all earthly Princes pas ? 
What heavenly Muse shall thy great hon- 
our rayse 
Up to the skies, whence first deriv'd it was. 
And now on eartli it selfe enlarged has 
From th' utmost brinke of the Armericke 

shore 
Unto the margent of the Molucas ? 



Those Nations farre thy justice doe adore ; 
But thine owne people do thy mercy prayse 
much more. 

IV. 

Much more it praysed was of those two 
knights. 
The noble Prince and righteous Artegall, 
AVhen they had seene and heard her doome 

a- rights 
Against Duessa, damned by them all ; 
But by her tempred without griefe or gall, 
Till strong constraint did her thereto en- 
force : 
And yet even then ruing her wilfull fall 
With more then needfull naturall remorse. 
And yeelding the last honour to her 
wretched corse. 



During all which, those knights con- 
tin u'd there 
Both doing and receiving curtesies 
Of that great Ladie, who with goodly 

chore 
Them entertayn'd, fit for their dignities. 
Approving dayly to their noble eyes 
Royall examples of her mercies rare 
And worthie paterns of her clemencies ; 
Which till this day mongst many living- 
are. 
Who them to their posterities doe still de- 
clare. 

VI. 

Amongst the rest, which in that space 

befell, 
There came two Springals of full tender 

yeares, 
Farre thence from forrein land where tlu^y 

did dwell, 
To seeke for succour of her and her Peares, 



430 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



With humble prayers and intreatfull 

teares ; 
Sent by their mother, who, a widow, was 
Wrapt in great dolours and in deadly 

feares 
By a strong Tyrant, who invaded has 
Her land, and slaine her children ruefully, 

alas! 

VII. 

Her name was Belgae ; who in former age 
A Ladie of great worth and wealth had 

beene. 
And mother of a frutefull heritage, 
Even seventeene goodly sonnes; which 

who had seene 
In their first flowre, before this fatall teene 
Them overtooke and their f aire blossomes 

blasted, 
More happie mother would her surely 

weene 
Then famous Niobe, before she tasted 
Latouaes childrens wrath that all her issue 

wasted. 

VIII. 

But this fell Tyrant, through his tortious 
powre. 
Had left her now but five of all that brood : 
For twelve of them he did by times de- 

voure, 
And to his Idols sacrifice their blood. 
Why lest he of none was stopped nor with- 
stood : 
For soothly he was one of matchlesse 

might. 
Of horrible aspect and dreadfull mood, 
And had three bodies in one wast empight, 
And th' armes and legs of three to succour 
him in fight. 



And sooth they say that he was borne 

and bred 
Of Gyants i-ace, the sonne of Geryon ; 
He that whylome in Spaine so sore was 

dred 
For his huge powre and gi-eat oppression, 
Which brought that land to his subjection , 
Through his three bodies powre in one 

combynd ; 
And eke all strangers, in that region 
Arry ving, to his kyne for food assynd ; 
The fayrest kyne alive, but of the fiercest 

kynd: 

X. 

For they were all, they say, of purple 

hew, 
Kept by a cowheard, hight Eurytion, 
Acruell carle, the which all strangers slew, 
Ne day nor night did sleope t' attend th^Mn 

on, 



But walkt about them ever and anone 
With his two-headed dogge that Orthrus 

hight ; 
Orthrus begotten by great Typhaon 
And foule Echidna in the house of night : 
But Hercules them all did overcome in 

fight. 

XI. 

His Sonne was this Geryoneo hight ; 
Who, after that his monstrous father fell 
Under Alcides club,streight tooke hisflight 
From that sad land where his syre did 

quell, 
And came to this, where Beige then did 

dwell 
And flourish in all wealth and happinesse. 
Being then new made widow (as befell) 
After her Noble husbands late decesse ; 
Which gave beginning to her woe and 

wretchednesse. 



Then this bold Tyrant, of her widowhcd 
Taking advantage, and her yet fresh woes, 
Himself e and service to her offered. 
Her to defend against all forrcin foes 
That should their powre against her right 

oppose : 
Wherebf she glad, now needing strong de- 
fence, 
Him entertayn'd and did her champion 

chose ; 
Which long he usd with caref nil diligence, 
The better to confirme her fearelesse con- 
fidence. 

XIII. 

By meanes whereof she did at last com- 
mit 
All to his hands, and gave him soveraine 

powre 
To doe whatever he thought good or fit : 
Which having got, he gan forth from that 

how re 
To stirre up strife and many a tragicke 

stowre ; 
Giving her dearest children one by one 
Unto a dreadful Monster to devoure, 
And setting up an Idole of his owne, 
The image of his monstrous parent Gery- 
on e. 

XIV. 

So tyrannizing and oppressing all. 
The woeful! widow had no meanes now 

left. 
But unto gratious great Mercilla call 
For ayde against that cruell Tyrants theft, 
Ere all her children he from her had reft: 
Therefore these two, her eldest sonnes, 

she sent 
To seeke for succour of this Ladies gieft; 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



431 



To whom their sute they humbly did pre- 
sent 

In th' hearing of full many Knights and 
Ladies gent. 



Amongst the which then fortuned to bee 
The noble Briton Prince with his brave 

Peare ; 
Who when he none of all those knights 

did see 
Hastily bent that enterprise to heare, 
Nor undertake the same for cowheard 

feare, 
He stepped forth with coui-age bold and 

great, 
Admyr'd of all the rest in presence there, 
And humbly gan that mightie Queene en- 
treat 
To graunt him that adventure for his 
former feat. 



She gladly graunted it : then he straight- 
way 
Himselfe unto his joui-ney gan prepare, 
And all his armours readie dight that day. 
That nought the morrow next mote staj^ 

his fare; 
The morrow next appear'd with purple 

hay re 
Yet dropping fresh out of the Indian 

fovmt, 
And bringing light into the heavens fayre, 
When he was readie to his steede to 

mount 
Unto his way, which now was all his care 
and count. 

XVII. 

Then taking humble leave of that great 

Queene, 
Who gave him roiall gifties and riches 

rare, 
As tokens of her thankefull mind beseene. 
And leaving Artegall to his owne care, 
Upon his voyage forth he gan to fare 
With those "two gentle youthes, which 

him did guide 
And all his way before him still prepare. 
Ne after him did Artegall abide, 
But on his first adventure forward forth 

did ride. 

XVIII. 

It was not long till that the Prince ar- 
rived 

Within the land where dwelt that Ladie 
sad; 

Whereof that Tyrant had her now de- 
prived, 



And into moores and marshes banisht 

had. 
Out of the pleasant soyle and cities glad, 
In which she wont to harbour happily : 
But now his cruelty so sore she drad, 
That to those fennes for fastnesse she did 

fly, 

And there her selfe did hyde from his 
hard tyranny. 

XIX. 

There he her found in sorrow and dis- 
may, 

All solitarie without living wight; 

For all her other children, through affray, 

Had hid themselves, or taken further 
flight : 

And eke her selfe, through sudden strange 
affright 

When one in armes she saw, began to 

fly; 

But, when her owne two sonnes she had 
in sight. 

She gan take hart and looke up joyfully ; 

For well she wist this knight came suc- 
cour to supply. 

XX. 

And, running unto them with greedy 

joyes, 
Fell straight about their neckes as they 

did kneele. 
And bursting forth in teares, ' Ah ! my 

sweet boyes,' 
(Sayd she) 'yet now I gin new life to 

feele ; 
And feeble spirits, that gan faint and 

reele, 
Now rise againe at this your joyous sight. 
Alreadie seemes that fortunes headlong 

wheele 
Begins to turne, and sunne to shine more 

bright 
Then it was wont, through comfort of 

this noble knight.' 



Then turning unto him; ' And you. Sir 

knight,' 
(Said she) ' that taken have this toyle- 

some paine 
For wretched woman, miserable wight, 
May you in heaven immortall guerdon 

gaine 
For so great travell as you doe sustaine! 
For other meede may hope for none of 

mee, 
To whom nought else but bare life doth 

remaine; 
And that so wretched one, as ye do see, 



432 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book V, 



Is liker lingriiig death then loathed life 
to bee.' 

XXII. 

Much was he moved with her piteous 

plight, 
And low dismouutiug from his loftie 

steede 
Gan to recomfort her all that he might, 
Seeking to drive away deepe-rooted dreede 
With hope of helpe in that her greatest 

neede. 
So thence he wished her with him to wend 
Unto some place where they mote rest 

and feede. 
And she take comfort which God now did 

send: 
Good hart in evils doth the evils much 

amend. 



' Ay me ! ' (sayd she) ' and whether shall 

Igoe? 
Are not all places full of forraiue powres ? 
My pallaces possessed of my foe, 
My cities sackt, and their sky-threating 

towres 
Raced and made smooth fields now full of 

flowres? 
Onely these marishes and myrie bogs, 
In which the fearefull ewftes do build 

their bowres, 
Yeeld me an hostry mongst the croking 

frogs, 
And harbour here in safety from those 

ravenous dogs.' 

XXIV. 

'Nathlesse.' (said he) 'deare Ladie, 

with me goe ; 
Some place shall ns receive and harbour 

yield ; 
If not,"^we will it force, maugre your foe, 
And purchase it to us with speare and 

shield : 
And if all fayle, yet farewell open field ; 
The earth to all her creatures lodging 

lends.' 
With such his chearefull speaches he doth 

wield 
Her mind so well, that to his will she 

bends ; 
And, bynding up her locks and weeds, 

forth with him wends. 



They came unto aCitie farre upland, 
The which whylome that Ladies owue 

had ])ene ; 
But now by force extort out of her hand 
By her strong foe, who had defaced cleene 



Her stately towres and buildings sunny 

sheene, 
Shut up her haven, mard her marchants 

trade, 
Robbed her people that full rich had 

beene. 
And in her necke a Castle huge had 

made, 
The which did her commauud without 

needing perswade. 

XXVI. 

That Castle was the strength of all that 

state, 
Untill that state by strength was pulled 

downe ; 
And that same citie, so now ruinate, 
Had bene the keye of all that kingdomes 

crowne ; 
Both goodly Oastle, and both goodly 

Towne, 
Till that th' offended heavens list to 

low re 
Upon their blisse, and balefull fortune 

f rowne : 
AVhen those gainst states and kingdomes 

do conjure, 
Who then can thinke their hedlong ruine 

to recure ? 

XXVII. 

But he had brought it now in servile 
bond, 
And made it beare the yoke of Inquisition, 
Stryving long time in vaine it to with- 

stond ; 
Yet glad at last to make most base sub- 
mission. 
And life enjoy for any composition : 
So now he hath new lawes and orders 

new 
Imposd on it with many a hard condi- 
tion, 
And forced it, the honour that is dew 
To God, to doe unto his Idole most un- 
trew. 

XXVIII. 

To him he hath before this Castle greene 
Built a faire Chappell, and an Altar 

framed 
Of costly Ivory full rich beseene, 
On which that cursed Idole, farre pro- 
clamed, 
He hath set up, and him his God hath 

named ; 
Offering to him in sinfull sacrifice 
The riesh of men, to Gods owne likenesse 

framed. 
And powring forth their blond inbrutishe 

wize, 
Than any yron eyes to see it would agrize. 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QL KLiNt 



433 



And, for more horror and more crueltie, 
Under that cursed Idols altar-stone 
An hideous monster doth in darknesselie, 
Whose dreadful! shape was never seene of 

none 
That lives on earth ; but unto those alone 
The which unto him sacrificed bee: 
Those he devoures, they say, both flesh 

and bone. 
What else they have is all the Tyrants 

fee; 
So that no whit of them remayning one 

may see. 

XXX. 

There eke he placed a strong garrisoue, 
And set a Seneschall of dreaded might. 
That by his powre oppressed every one, 
And vanquished all ventrous knights in 

fight; • 
To whom he wont shew all the shame he 

might, 
After that them in battell he had wonne : 
To which when now they gan approch in 

sight, 
The Ladie counseld him the place to 

shonne 
Where as so mf\ny knights had fouly bene 

fordoune. 

XXXI. 

Her fearefull speaches nought he did re- 
gard, 
But, ryding streight under the Castle wall, 
Called aloud unto the watch full ward 
W^hich there did wayte, Avilling them 

forth to call 
Into the field their Tyrants Seneschall : 
To whom when tydings thereof came, he 

streight 
Cals for his amies, and arming him withall 
Eftsoones forth pricked proudly in his 

might. 
And gan with courage fierce addresse him 
to the fight. 



They both encounter in the middle 
plaine. 
And their sharpe speares doe both to- 
gether smite 
Amid their shields, with so huge might 

and maine 
That seem'd their soules they wold have 

ryven quight 
Out of their breasts with furious despight : 
Yet could the Seneschals no entrance find 
Into the Princes shield where it empight, 
(So pure the metallwas and well refynd,) 
But shivered all about, and scattered in 
the wynd ; 



XXXllI. 

Not so the Priuces but with restlesse 

force 
Into his shield it roadie passage found, 
Both througli his haberjeon and eke hi:; 

corse ; 
AVhich tombling downe upon the sensc- 

lesse ground 
Gave leave unto his ghost frou! thraMoniri 

bound 
To wander in the griesly shades oi ni^iit. 
There did the Prince him leave in dtai>. 

swound, 
And thence ujito the castle marched right, 
To see if entrance there as yet obtaine he 

might. 

xxxiv. 

But, as he nigher drew, three knights 
he spyde, 
All arm'd to point, issuing forth apace, 
Which towards him with all their powre 

did ryde. 
And meeting him right in the middle race 
Did all their speares attonce on him en- 

chace. 
As three great Culverings for battrie bent. 
And leveld all against one certaine place. 
Doe all attonce their thunders rage forth 

rent. 
That makes the wals to stagger with as- 
tonishment : 

xxxv. 

So all attonce they on the Prince did 

thonder. 
Who from his saddle swarved nought 

asyde, 
Ne to their force gave way, that was great 

wonder ; 
But like a bulwarke firmely did abyde, 
Rebutting him, which in the midst did 

ryde, 
With so huge rigour, that his mortall 

speare 
Past through his shield and pierst through 

either syde ; 
That downe he fell uppon his mother 

deare. 
And powred forth his wretched life in 

deadly dreare. 

XXXVI. 

Whom when his other fellowes saw, 

they fled 
As fast as feete could carry them away ; 
And after them the Prince as swiftly sped. 
To be aveng'd of their unknightly play. 
There, whiiest they entring th' one did th' 

other stay, 
The hindmost in the gate he overhent, 



434 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And, as he pressed in, him there did slay : 
His carkasse, tumbling on the threshold, 

sent 
His groning soule unto her place of pun- 
ishment. 

XXXVII. 

The other which was entred laboured 

fast 
To sperre the gate ; but that same lumpe 

of clay, 
Whose grudging ghost was thereout fled 

and past, 
Right in the middest of the threshold lay, 
That it the Posterne did from closing 

stay: 
The whiles the Prince hard preased in be- 

tweene. 
And entraunce wonne: Streight th' other 

fled away, 
And ran into the Hall, where he did 

weene 
Him selfe to save ; but he there slew him 

at the skreene. 

XXXVIII. 

Then all the rest which in that Castle 
were. 
Seeing that sad ensample them before, 
Durst not abide, but fled away for feare. 



And them convayd out at a Posterne dore. 

Long sought the Prince; but when he 
found no more 

T' oppose against his powre he forth is- 
sued 

Unto that Lady, where he her had lore. 

And her gan cheare with what she there 
had vewed. 

And what she had not seene within unto 
her shewed ; 



Who with right humble thankes him 
goodly greeting 
For so great prowesse as he there had 

proved. 
Much greater then was ever in her weet- 

iug, 

With great admiraunce inwardly was 
moved, • 

And honourd him with all that her be- 
hoved. 

Thenceforth into that Castle he her led 

With her two sonnes, right deare of her 
beloved, 

Where all that night them selves they 
cherished. 

And from her balefull minde all care he 
banished. 



CANTO XL 

Prince Arthure overcomes the great 

Gerioneo in fight: 
Doth slay the Monster, and restore 

Belg^ "unto her right. 



It often fals, in course of common life, 
That right long time is overborne of 

wrong 
Through avarice, or powre, or guile, or 

strife. 
That weakens her, and makes her party 

strong ; 
But Justice, though her dome she doe 

prolong, 
Yet at the last she will her owne cause 

right : 
As by sad Beige seemes; whose wrongs 

though long 
She suff red, yet at length she did requight, 
And sent redresse thereof by this brave 

Briton Knight. 



Whereof when uewes was to that Ty- 
rant brought, 
How that the Lady Beige now had found 



A Champion, that had with his Champion 
fougbt. 

And laid his Seneschall low on the ground, 

And eke him selfe did threaten to con- 
found ; 

He gan to burne in rage, and friese in 
feare. 

Doubting sad end of principle unsound : 

Yet, sith he heard but one that did ap- 
peare, 

He did him selfe encourage and take bet- 
ter cheare. 

III. 

Nathelesse him selfe he armed all in hast. 
And forth he far'd with all his many bad, 
Ne stayed step, till that he came at last 
Unto tiie Castle which they conquerd had : 
There with huge terrour, to be more 

ydrad. 
He sternely marcht before the Castle gate. 
And, with bold vaunts and ydle threat- 

ning, bad 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



435 



Deliver him his owne, ere yet too late, 
To which they had uo right, nor any 
wrongfuil state. 

IV. 

The Prince staid not his aunswere to 

devize, 
But, opening streight the Sparre, forth 

to him came, 
Full nobly mounted in right warlike wize ; 
And asked him, if that he were the same. 
Who all that wrong unto that wofull 

Dame 
So long had done, and from her native 

land 
Exiled her, that all the world spake 

shame. 
He boldly aunswerd him, He there d'id 

stand 
That would his doings justifie with his 

owne hand. 

V. 

With that so furiously at him he flew, 
As if he would have ovei'-run him 

streight ; 
And with his huge great yron axe gan 

hew 
So hideously uppon his armour bright. 
As he to peeces would have chopt it 

quight. 
That the bold Prince was forced foote to 

give 
To his first rage, and yeeld to his de- 

spight ; 
The whilest at him so dreadfully he drive. 
That seeni'd a marble rocke asunder could 

have rive. 

VI. 

Thereto a great advauntage eke he has 
Through his three double hands thrise 

multiplyde. 
Besides the double strength which in them 

was: 
For stil, when fit occasion did betyde. 
He could his weapon shift from side to 

syde. 
From hand to hand ; and with such nim- 

blesse sly 
Could wield about, that, ere it were es- 

pide. 
The wicked stroke did wound his enemy 
Behiude, beside, before, as he it list apply. 

VII. 

Which uncouth use when as the Prince 
perceived, 
He gan to watch the wielding of his hand. 
Least by such slight he were unwares de- 
ceived ; 
And ever, ere he saw the stroke to land. 



He would it meete and warily withstand. 
One time when he his weapon faynd to 

shift. 
As he was wont, and chang'd from hand 

to hand, 
He met him with a counterstroke so 

swift. 
That quite smit off his arme as he it up 

did lift. 

VIII. 

Therewith all fraught with fury and 

disdaiue, 
He brayd aloud for very fell despight ; 
And sodainely, t' avenge him selfe agaiue 
Gan into one assemble all the might 
Of all his hands, and heaved them on 

hight. 
Thinking to pay him with that one for 

all: 
But the sad Steele seizd not, where it was 

hight, 
Uppon the childe, but somewhat short 

did fall, 
And lighting on his horses head him quite 

did mall. 

IX. 

Downe streight to ground fell his as- 
tonisht steed. 

And eke to th' earth his burden with him 
bare ; 

But he him selfe full lightly from him 
freed. 

And gan him selfe to fight on foote pre- 
pare : 

Whereof when as the Gyant was aware, 

He wox right blyth, as he had got there- 
by, 

And laught so loud, that all his teeth wide 
bare 

One might have scene enraung'd disor- 
derly, 

Like to a rancke of piles that pitched are 
awry. 

X, 

Eftsoones againe his axe he raught on 

hie, 
Ere he were throughly buckled to his 

geare, 
And can let drive at him so dreadfullie. 
That had he chaunced not his shield to 

reare, 
Ere that huge stroke arrived on him 

neare. 
He had him surely cloven quite in twaine : 
But th' Adamantine shield which he did 

beare 
So well was tempred, that for all his 

maine 
It would no passage yeeld unto his pur- 
pose vaine. 



436 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book 



Yet was the stroke so forcibly applide, 
That made him stagger with uucertaiue 

sway, 
As if he would have tottered to one side : 
Wherewith full wroth he fiercely gan 

assay- 
That curt'sie with like kindnesse to repay, 
And smote at him with so importune 

might. 
That two more of his amies did fall away. 
Like fruitlesse braunches, which the 

hatchets slight 
Hath pruned from the native tree, and 

cropped quight. 

XII. 

With that all mad and furious he grew, 
Like a fell mastiffe through enraging 

heat, 
And curst, and band, and blasphemies 

forth threw 
Against his Gods, and fire to them did 

threat, 
And hell unto him selfe with horrour 

great. 
Thenceforth he car'd no more which way 

he strooke. 
Nor where it light ; but gan to chaufe and 

sweat, 
And gnasht his teeth, and his head at him 

shooke, 
And sternely him beheld with grim and 

ghastly looke. 



Nought fear'd the childe his lookes, ne 

yet his threats. 
But onely wexed now the more aware 
To save him selfe from those his furious 

heats, 
And watch advauntage how to worke his 

care. 
The which good Fortune to him offred 

faire ; 
For as he in his rage him overstrooke. 
He, ere he could his weapon backe repaire. 
His side all bare and naked overtooke, 
And with his mortal steel quite through 

the body strooke. 

XIV. 

Through all three bodies he him strooke 

attonce, 
That all the three attonce fell on the 

plaine, 
Else should he thrise have needed for the 

nonce 
Them to have stricken, and thrise to have 

slaine. 



So now all three one seucelesse lumpe re- 

maine, 
Enwallow'd in his owue blacke bloudy 

gore. 
And byting th' earth for very deaths dis- 

daine ; 
Who, with a cloud of night him covering, 

bore 
Dowue to the house of dole, his daies 

there to deplore. 

XV. 

Which when the Lady from the Castle 
saw, 
Where she with her two sonnes did look- 
ing stand, 
She towards him in hast her selfe did draw 
To greet him the good fortune of his hand : 
xVnd all the people, both of towne and 

land, 
Which there stood gazing from the Citties 

wall 
Uppon these warriours, greedy t' under- 
stand 
To whether should the victory befall. 
Now when they saw it falue, they eke him 
greeted all. 

XVI. 

But Beige, with her sonnes, prostrated 

low 
Before his feete in all that peoples sight, 
Mongst joyes mixing some tears, mongst 

wele some wo. 
Him thus bespake : ' O most redoubted 

Knight, 
The which hast me, of all most wretched 

wight. 
That earst was dead, restor'd to life 

againe. 
And these weake impes replanted by thy 

might, 
What guerdon can I give thee for thy 

paine. 
But even that w^hich thou savedst thine 

still to remaine ? ' 



He tooke her up forby the lilly hand. 
And her recoraforted the best he might. 
Saying ; ' Deare Lady, deedes ought not 

be scand 
By th' authors manhood, nor the doers 

might. 
But by their trueth and by the causes 

right : 
That same is it which fought for you this 

day. 
What other meed, then, need me to re- 

quight, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



437 



But that which yeeldeth vertues meed 
ahvay ? 

That is, the vertiie selfe, which her re- 
ward doth pay.' 

XVIII. 

She humbly thaukt him for that won- 
drous grace, 
And further sayd : ' Ah! Sir, but mote ye 

please, 
Sith ye thus farre have tendred my poore 

case, 
As from my chiefest foe me to release, 
That your victorious arme will not yet 

cease, 
Till ye have rooted all the relickes out 
Of that vilde race, and stablished my 

peace. 
* What is there else ' (sayd he) * left of 

their rout? 
Declare it boldly. Dame, and doe not stand 

in dout.' 

XIX. 

' Then wote you, Sir, that in this Church 

hereby 
There stands an Idole of great note and 

name. 
The which this Gyaut reared first on hie. 
And of his owne value fancies thought 

did frame : 
To whom, for endlesse horrour of his 

shame. 
He offred up for daily saerifize 
My children and my people, burnt in flame 
With all the tortures that he could devize. 
The more t' aggrate his God with such his 

blouddy guize. 

XX. 

* And underneath this Idoll there doth 

lie 
An hideous monster that doth it defend, 
And feedes on all the carkasses that die 
In saerifize unto that cursed feend ; 
Wliose ugly shape none ever saw, nor 

kend, 
That ever scap'd : for of a man, they say. 
It has the voice, that speaches forth doth 

send. 
Even blasphemous words, which she doth 

bray 
Out of her poysnous entrails fraught with 

dire decay.' 



Which when the Prince heard tell, his 
heart gan earne 
For great desire that Monster to assay, 
And prayd the place of her abode to 
learne ; 



Which being shew'd, he gan him selfe 

streightway 
Thereto addresse, and his bright shield 

display. 
So to the Church he came, where it was 

told 
The Monster underneath the Altar lay : 
There he that Idoll saw of massy gold 
Most richly made, but there no Monster 

did behold. 

XXII. 

Upon the Image with his naked blade 
Three times, as in defiance, there he 

strooke ; 
And the third timeout of an hidden shade 
There forth issewd from under th' Altars 

smooke 
A dreadfull feend with fowle deformed 

looke. 
That stretcht it selfe as it had long lyen 

still; 
And her long taile and fethers strongly 

shooke. 
That all the Temple did with terrour 

fill; 
Yet him nought terrified that feared noth- 
ing ill. 

XXIII. 

An huge great Beast it was, when it in 

length 
Was stretched forth, that nigh fild all the 

place. 
And seem'd to be of infinite great 

strength : 
Horrible, hideous, and of hellish race, 
Borne of the brooding of Echidna base. 
Or other like iuferiuill furies kinde; 
For of a Mayd she had the outward 

face. 
To hide the horrour which did lurke be- 

hinde, 
The better to beguile whom she so fond 

did finde. 

XXIV. 

Thereto the body of a dog she had. 
Full of fell ravin and fierce greedinesse ; 
A Lions clawes, with powre and rigour 

clad. 
To rend and teare what so she can op- 

presse ; 
A Dragons taile, whose sting without re- 

dresse ■ 
Full deadly M^ounds where so it is empight ; 
And Eagles wings, for scope and speedi- 

nesse, 
That nothing may escape her reaching 

might, 
Whereto she ever list to make her hardy 

flight. 



438 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Much like in foulnesse and deformity 
Unto that Monster, whom the Theban 

Knight, 
The father of that fatall progeny, 
Made kill her selfe for very hearts de- 

spight 
That he had red her Riddle, which no wight 
Could ever loose but suff red deadly doole : 
So also did this Monster use like slight 
To many a one which came unto her 

schoole, 
Whom she did put to death, deceived like 

a foole. 

XXVI. 

She comming forth, when as she first 

beheld 
The armed Prince with shield so blazing 

bright 
Her ready to assaile, was greatly queld, 
And i^uch dismayd with that dismayfull 

sight, 
That backe she would have turnd for 

great affright : 
But he gan her with courage fierce assay, 
That forst her turne againe in herdespi^ht 
To save her selfe, least that he did her 

slay ; 
And sure he had her slaine, had she not 

turnd her way. 

XXVII. 

Tho, when she saw that she was forst 

to fight. 
She flew at him like to an hellish feend. 
And on his shield tooke hold with all her 

might. 
As if that it she would in peeces rend, 
Or reave out of the hand that did it hend : 
Strongly he strove out of her greedy gripe 
To loose his shield, and long while did 

contend; 
But, when he could not quite it, with one 

stripe 
Her Lions clawes he from her feete away 

did wipe. 

• XXVIII. 

With that aloude she gan to bray and 

yell, 
And fowle blasphemous speaches forth 

did cast. 
And bitter curses, horrible to tell ; 
That even the Temple, wherein she was 

plast, 
Did quake to heare, and nigh asunder 

brast : 
Tho with her huge long taile she at him 

strooke. 
That made him stagger and stand halfe 

agast. 



With trembling joynts, as he for terrour 

shooke ; 
Who nought was terrifide, but greater 

courage tooke. 



As when the Mast of some well-timbred 

hulke 
Is with the blast of some outragious 

storme 
Blowne downe, it shakes the bottome of 

the bulke. 
And makes her ribs to cracke as they 

were torne ; 
Whilest still she stands, as stonisht and 

forlorne : 
So was he stound with stroke of her huge 

taile ; 
But, ere that it she backe againe had 

borne, 
He with his sword it strooke, that with- 
out faile 
He jointed it, and mard the swinging of 

her flaile. 

XXX. 

Then gan she cry much louder then 

afore. 
That all the people there without it heard, 
And Beige selfe was therewith stonied sore. 
As if the onely sound thereof she feard. 
But then the feend her selfe more fiercely 

reard 
Uppon her wide great wings, and strongly 

flew 
With all her body at his head and beard, 
That had he not foreseene with heedfull 

vew. 
And thrown his shield atween, she had 

him done to rew, 

XXXI. 

But, as she prest on him with heavy 

sway. 
Under her wombe his fatall sword he 

thrust. 
And for her entrailes made an open way 
To issue forth; the which, once being 

brust. 
Like to a great Mill-darab forth fiercely 

gusht, 
And powred out of her infernall sinke 
Most ugly filth; and poyson therewith 

rusht, 
That him nigh choked with the deadly 

stinke. 
Such loathly matter were small lust to 

speake or thinke. 

XXXII. 

Then downe to ground fell that deformed 

Masse, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



439 



Breathing out clouds of sulphure fowle 

and blacke, 
In which a puddle of contagion was, 
More loathd then Lerna, or then Stygian 

lake, 
That any man would nigh awhaped 

make: 
Whom when he saw on ground, he was 

full glad, 
And streight went forth his gladnesse to 

partake 
With Beige, who watcht all this while 

full sad, 
Wayting what end would be of that same 

dauuger drad. 



Whom when she saw so joyously come 

forth. 
She gan rejoyce and shew triumphant 

chere, 
Lauding and praysinghisrenowmed worth 
By all the names that honourable were. 
Then in he brought her, and her shewed 

there 
The present of his paines, that Monsters 

spoyle, 
And eke that IdoU deem'd so costly dere, 
Whom he did all to peeces breake, and 

foyle 
In filthy durt, and left so in the loathely 

soyle. 



Then all the people which beheld that 

day 
Gan shout aloud, that unto heaven it 

rong ; 
And all the damzels of that towne in ray 
Come dauncing forth, and joyous carrols 

song: 
So him they led through all their streetes 

along 
Crowned with girlonds of immortall 

baies ; 
And all the vulgar did about them throng 
To see the man, whose everlasting praise 
They all were bound to all posterities to 

raise. 

XXXV. 

There he with Belgse did awhile 
remaine 
Making great feast and joyous merri- 
ment, 
Untill he had her settled in her raine 
With safe assuraunce and establishment : 
Then to his first emprize his mind he 

lent. 
Full loath to Belgae and to all the rest ; 
Of whom yet taking leave thence forth he 
went, 



And to his former journey him addrest ; 
On which long way he rode, ne ever day 
did rest. 

XXXVI. 

But turne we now to noble Artegall; 
Who, having left Mercilla, streight way 

went 
On his first quest, the which him forth 

did call, 
To weet, to worke Irenaes franchise- 

ment. 
And eke Grantortoes worthy punishment. 
So forth he fared, as his manner was, 
With onely Talus wayting diligent, 
Through many perils; and mttch way 

did pas, 
Till nigh unto the place at length ap- 

procht he has. 



There as he traveld by the way, he met 
An aged wight wayfaring all alone/ 
Who through his yeares long since aside 

had set 
The use of armes, and battell quite for- 
gone : 
To whom as he approcht, he knew anone 
That it was he which whilome did attend 
On faire Irene in her affliction. 
When first to Faery court he saw her 

wend. 
Unto his soveraiue Queene her suite for 
to commend. 

XXXVIII. 

Whom by his name saluting, thus he 

gan: 
' Haile, good Sir Sergis, truest Knight 

alive. 
Well tride in all thy Ladies troitbles 

than 
When her that Tyrant did of Crowns 

deprive ; 
What new occasion doth thee hither 

drive. 
Whiles she alone is left, and thou here 

found ? 
Or is she thrall, or doth she not survive ? ' 
To whom he thus : ' She liveth sure and 

sound, 
But by that Tyrant is in wretched thral- 

dome bound : 

XXXIX. 

'For she presuming on th' appointed 
tyde. 
In which ye promist, as ye were a Knight, 
To meete her at the salvage Hands syde. 
And then and there for triall of her right 
With her unrighteous enemy to fight, 



440 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Did thither come ; where she, afrayd of 

nouglit, 
By guileful! treason and by sub till slight 
Surprized was, and to Grantorto brought, 
Who her imprisoud hath, and her life often 

sought. 



' And now he hath to her prefixt a day. 
By which if that no champion doe ap- 

peare, 
Which will her cause in battailous array 
Against him justifie.and prove her cleare 
Of all those crimes that he gainst her 

doth reare, 
She death shall sure aby.' Those tidings 

sad 
Did much abash Sir Artegall to heare, 
And grieved sore that through his fault 

she had 
Fallen into that Tyrants hand and usage 

bad. 

XLI. 

Then thus replide : ' Now sure and by 

my life, 
Too much am I too blame for that faire 

Maide, 
That have her drawne to all this troub- 
lous strife. 
Through promise to afford her timely 

aide, 
Which by default I have not yet defraide : 
But witnesse unto me, ye heavens! that 

know 
How cleare I am from blame of this up- 

braide ; 
For ye into like thraldome me did throw, 
And kept from complishing the faith 

which I did owe. 



' But now aread. Sir Sergis, how long 

space 
Hath he her lent a Champion to pro- 
vide ? ' 
' Ten dales,' (quoth he) ' he grauuted 

hatli of grace, 
For that he weeneth well before that tide 
None can have tidings to assist her side : 
For all the shores, which to the sea 

accoste, 
He day and night doth ward both farre 

and wide. 
That none can there arrive without an 

hoste : 
So her he deemes already but a damned 

ghoste.' 

XLIII. 

' Now turne againe,' (Sir Artegall then 
sayd) 



' For, if I live till those ten dales have 

end. 
Assure your selfe, Sir Knight, she shall 

have ayd, 
Though I this dearest life for her doe 

spend.' 
So backeward he attone with him did 

wend : 
Tho, as they rode together on their way, 
A rout of people they before them kend. 
Flocking together in confusde array ; 
As if that there were some tumultuous 

affray. 

XLIV. 

To which as they approcht the cause to 

know, 
They saw a Knight in daungerous dis- 

tresse 
Of a rude rout him chasing to and fro. 
That sought with lawlesse powre him to 

oppresse, 
And bring in bondage of their brutish- 

nesse : 
And farre away, amid their rakehell 

bands, 
They spide a Lady left all succourlesse. 
Crying, and holding up her wretched 

hands 
To him for aide, who long in vaine their 

rage withstands. 

XLV. 

Yet still he strives, ne any peril spares, 
To reskue her from their rude violence ; 
And like a Lion wood amongst them fares. 
Dealing his dreadfull blowes with large 

dispence, 
Gainst which the pallid death findes no 

defence; 
But all in vaine: their numbers are so 

great. 
That naught may boot to banishe them 

from thence ; 
For soone as he their outrage backe doth 

beat. 
They turne afresh, and oft renew their 

former threat. 



And now they doe so sharpely him 

assay. 
That they his shield in peeces battred 

have. 
And forced him to throw it quite away. 
Fro dangers dread his doubtfull life to 

save ; 
Albe that it most safety to liim gave, 
And much did magnifie his noble name : 
For, from the day that he thus did it 

leave, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



441 



AmoDgst all Knights he blotted was with 

blame, 
And counted but a recreant Knight with 

eudles shame. 

XL VII. 

Whom when they thus distressed did 

behold, 
They drew unto his aide ; but that rude 

rout 
Them also gan assaile with outrage bold, 
And forced them, how ever strong and 

stout 
They were, as well approv'd in many a 

doubt, 
Backe to recule ; untill that yrou man 
With his huge flaile began to lay about ; 
From whose sterne presence they diffused 

ran, 
Like scattred chaffe the which the wind 

away doth fan. 

XLVIII. 

So w^hen that Knight from perill cleare 

was freed, 
He drawing neare began to greete them 

faire, 
And yeeld great thankes for their so 

goodly deed. 
In saving him from daungerous despaire 
Of those which sought his life for to 

empaire : 
Of whom Sir Artegall gan then enquire 
The whole occasion of his late misfare, 
And who he was, and what those villaines 

were, 
The which with mortall malice him 

pursu'd so nere. 

XLIX. 

To whom he thus : ' My name is Burbon 

hight. 
Well knowne, and far renowmed hereto- 
fore, 
Untill late mischiefe did uppon me light. 
That all my former praise hath blemisht 

sore : 
And that faire Lady, which in that up- 

rore 
Ye with those caytives saw, Flourdelis 

bight. 
Is mine owne love, though me she have 

forlore. 
Whether withheld from me by wrongfuU 

might, 
Or with her owne good will, I cannot read 

aright. 

L. 

* But sure to me her faith she lirst did 
plight 



To be my love, and take me for her Lord ; 
Till that a Tyrant, which Graudtorto 

hight, 
With golden giftes and many a guilef ull 

word 
Entyced her to him for to accord. 
O ! who may not with gifts and words be 

tempted ? 
Sith which she hath me ever since ab- 

hord, 
And to my foe hath guilefully consented : 
Ay me, that ever guyle in wemen was 

invented ! 

LI. 

' And now he hath this troupe of vil- 
lains sent 
By open force to fetch her quite away : 
Gainst whom my selfe I long in vaine 

have bent 
To rescue her, and daily meanes assay ; 
Yet rescue her thence by no meanes I 

may, 
For they doe me with multitude oppresse, 
And with unequall might doe overlay. 
That oft I driven am to great distresse, 
And forced to forgoe th' attempt remedi- 
lesse.' 

LII. 

' But why have ye ' (said Artegall) * for- 
borne 

Your owne good shield in daungerous dis- 
may ? 

That is the greatest shame and foulest 
scorne. 

Which unto any knight behappen may, 

To loose the badge that should his deedes 
display.' 

To whom Sir Burbon, blushing halfe for 
shame : 

' That shall I unto you ' (quoth he) ' be- 
wray, 

Least ye therefore mote happily me blame, 

And deeme it doen of will, that through 
inforcement came. 

LIII. 

' True is that I at first was dubbed 

knight 
By a good knight, the knight of the Ked- 

crosse ; 
Who, when he gave me amies in field to 

fight, 
Gave me a shield, in which he did endoshe 
His deare Redeemers badge upon the 

bosse : 
The same long while I bore, and there- 

withall 
Fought many battels without wound or 

losse ; 
Therewith Graudtorto selfe I did appall. 



442 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



Aiid made him ofteutimes in field before 
me fall. 

LIV. 

'But for that many did that shield 

en vie, 
And cruell enemies increased more, 
To stint all strife and troublous enmitie, 
That bloudie scutchin, being battered 

sore, 
I layd aside, and have of late forbore. 
Hoping thereby to have my love ob- 

tayned ; 
Yet can I not my love have nathemore, 
For she by force is still fro me detayned, 
And with corruptf ull brybes is to untruth 

mis-tray ned.' 



To whom thus Artegall : ' Certes, Sir 

knight. 
Hard is the case the which ye doe com- 

plaine ; 
Yet not so hard (for nought so hard may 

light 
That it to such a streight mote you con- 

straine) 
As to abandon that which doth coiitaine . 
Your honours stile, that is, your warlike 

shield. 
All peril 1 ought be lesse, and lesse all 

paine 
Then losse of fame in disaventrous field : 
Dye, rather then doe ought that mOte dis- 
honour yield.' 



' Not so,' (quoth he) ' for yet, when 
time doth serve, 
My former shield I may resume againe : 
To temporize is not from truth to swerve, 
Ne for advantage terrae to entertaine, 
When as necessitie doth it constraine.' 
' Fie on such forgerie ! ' (sayd Artegall) 
' Under one hood to shadow faces twaine : 
Knights ought be true, and truth is one 

in all: 
Of all things, to dissemble, fouly may be- 
fall! ' 

LVII. 

' Yet let me you of courtesie request ' 
(Said Burbon) ' to assist me now at need 
Against these pesants which have me 

opprest, 
And forced me to so infamous deed. 
That yet my love may from their hands 

be freed.' 
Sir Artegall, albe he earst did wyte 
His wavering mind, yet to his aide agreed. 
And, buckling him eftsoones unto the 

fight, 



Did set upon those troupes with all his 
powre and might. 

LVIII. 

Who flocking round about them, as a 
swarme 

Of fly es upon a birchen bough doth cluster, 

Did them assault with terrible allarme ; 

And over all the fields themselves did 
muster, 

With bils and glay ves making a dreadful! 
luster. 

That forst at first those knights backe to 
retyre : 

As when the wrathfull Boreas doth blus- 
ter. 

Nought may abide the tempest of his yre ; 

Both man and beast doe fly, and succour 
doe iuquyre. 

LIX. 

But, when as overblowen was that 
brunt, 

Those knights began afresh them to as- 
sayle. 

And all about the fields like Squirrels 
hunt ; 

But chiefly Talus with his yron flayle, 

Gainst which no flight nor rescue mote 
avayle. 

Made cruell havocke of the baser crew, 

And chaced them both over hill and dale. 

The raskall manie soone they overthrew ; 

But the two knights themselves their cap- 
tains did subdew. 



At last they came whereas that Ladie 

bode, 
Whom now her keepers had forsaken 

quight 
To save tliemselves, and scattered were 

abrode. 
Her halfe dismayd they found in doubt- 
full plight, 
As neither glad nor sorie for their sight; 
Yet wondrous faire she was, and richly 

clad 
In roiall robes, and many jewels dight ; 
But that those villens through their usage 

bad 
Them fouly rent, and shamefully defaced 

had. 

LXI. 

But Burbon, streight dismounting from 
his steed. 
Unto her ran with greedie great desyre. 
And catching lier fast by her ragged weed 
Would have embraced her with hart eri- 
tyre ; 



CANTO XI. j 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



443 



But she backstartiug with disdamefull 

yre 
Bad him avaunt, ne would uiito his lore 
Allured be for prayer uor ior meed : 
AVhom when those knights so I'roward 

and forlore 
Beheld , they her rebuked and upbrayded 

sore. 

LXII. 

Sayd Artegall : ' What foule disgrace is 

this 
To so laire Ladie, as ye seeme in sight, 
To blot your beautie, that unblemisht 

is, 
With so foule blame as breach of faith 

once plight, 
Or change of love for any worlds delight ! 
Is ought on earth so pretious or deare 
As prayse and honour? Or is ought so 

bright 
And beautifull as glories beames appeare, 
Whose goodly light then Phosbus lampe 

doth shine more cleare? 



'Why then will ye, fond Dame, at- 
tempted bee 
Unto a strangers love, so lightly placed, 
For guiftes of gold or any worldly glee, 
To leave the love that ye before embraced, 
And let your fame with falshood be de- 
faced ? 
Fie on the pelfe for which good name is 

sold. 
And honour with indignitie debased! 



Dearer is love then life, and fame then 

gold ; 
But dearer then them both your fail^h 

once plighted hold.' 

LXIV. 

Much was the Ladie in her ge itle mind 
Abasht at his rebuke, that bit ner neare, 
Ne ought to answere thereunto did find ; 
But, hanging down her bead with heavie 

cheare, 
Stood long amaz'd as she amated weare : 
Which Burbou seeing her againe assayd ; 
And, clasping twixt his armes, her up did 

reare 
Upon his steede, whiles she no whit gaine- 

sayd : 
So bore her quite aw ay, nor w^ell nor ill 

apayd. 

LXV. 

Nathlesse the yron man did still pur- 
sew 

That raskall many with unpitied spoyle ; 

Ne ceassed not, till all their scattred 
crew 

Into the sea he drove quite from that 
soyle, 

The which they troubled had with great 
turmoyle. 

But Artegall, seeing his cruell deed, 

Commaunded him from slaughter to re- 
coy le, 

And to his voyage gan againe proceed ; 

For that the terrae, approching fast, re- 
quired speed. 



CANTO XII. 

Artegall doth Sir Burbon aide. 

And blames for changing shield: 
He with the great Grantorto tights, 

And slaieth hira in tield. 



O SACRED hunger of ambitious mindes. 
And impotent desire of men to raine! 
Whom neither dread of God, that devils 

bindes. 
Nor lawes of men, that common-weales 

containe, 
Nor bands of nature, that wilde beastes 

restraine, 
Can keepe from outrage and from doing- 
wrong, 
Where they may hope a kingdome to ob- 

taine : 
No faith so lirme, no trust can be so 

strong. 
No love so lasting then, that may euduren 

long. 



Witnesse may Burbon be ; whom all the 
bands 

Which may a Knight assure had surely 
bound, 

Untill the love of Lordship and of 
lands 

Made him become most faithless and un- 
sound : 

And witnesse be Gerioneo found, 

Who for like cause faire Beige did op- 
presse. 

And right and wrong most cruelly con- 
found : 

And so be now Grantorto, who no lesse 

Then all the rest burst out to all outra- 
giousnesse. 



444 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



III. 
Gainst whom Sir Artegall, long having 
since 
'i'akon in band tji' exploit, (being theretoo 
Appointed by that mightie Faerie Prince, 
iireat Oloiiane. that Tyrant to fordoo,) 
I hrough otliergrea: adventures hetliertoo 
Flad it" forclackt ; B.'-.*: now time drawing 

ny 

To him assynd her high beheast to doo. 
To the sea-shore /.i- gan his way apply, 
To weete ii: shipping readie he mote there 
descry. 

rv. 

Tho wiien they came to the sea coast 
they foniid 

A ship all readie (as good fortune fell) 

To put to sea. with whom they Jid com- 
pound 

To passe them o^er vrhere thein list to 
tell. 

The winde and weathei served them so 
well. 

That in one day th' with the coast did 
fall; 

Whereas they readie found, them to re- 
pell, 

Great hostes of men in order martiall. 

Which them forbad to land, and footing 
did forstall. 

V. 

But nathemore would they from land 

refraine : 
But, when as nigh unto the shore they 

drew 
That foot of man might sound the bot- 

tome plaine, 
Talus into the sea did forth issew 
Though darts from shore and stones they 

at liim threw; 
And M^ading through the waves with sted- 

fast sway, 
Maugre the might of all those troupes in 

vew. 
Did win the shore ; whence he them chast 

away, 
And made to fly like doves whom the 

Eagle doth affray. 

VI. 

The whyles Sir Artegall with that old 

knight 
Did forth descend, there being none them 

neare, 
And forward marched to a towne in sight. 
By this came tydings to the Tyrants eare. 
By those which earst did fly away for 

feare. 
Of their arrival : wherewith troubled sore 
He all his forces streighttohim did reare, 



And forth issuing with his scouts afore. 
Meant them to have encountred ere they 
left the shore : 



But ere he marched farre he with them 
met. 
And fiercely charged them with all his 

force : 
But Talus sternely did upon them set, 
And brusht and battred them without re- 
morse, 
That on the ground he left full many a 

corse ; 
Ne any able was him to withstand. 
But he them overthrew both man and 

horse, 
That they lay scattred over all the land, 
As thicke as doth the seede after the 
sowers hand : 

VIII. 

Till Artegall him seeing so to rage 
Willd him to stay, and signe of truce did 

make : 
To which all harkning did a while as- 

swage 
Their forces f urie, and their terror slake ; 
Till he an Herauld cald, and to him spake, 
Willing him wend unto the Tyrant 

streight. 
And tell him that not for such slaughters 

sake 
He thether came, but for to trie the right 
Of fayre Irenaes cause with him in single 

fight: 

IX. 

And willed him for to reclayme with 

speed 
His scattred people, ere they all were 

slaine. 
And time and i>lace convenient to areed. 
In which they two the combat might 

darraine. 
Which message when Grantorto heard, 

full fayne 
And glad he was the slaughter so to 

stay ; 
And pointed for the combat twixt them 

twayne 
The morrow next, ne gave him longer 

day : 
So sounded the retraite, and drew his 

folke away. 

That night Sir Artegall did cause his 

tent 
There to be pitched on the open plaine ; 
For he had given streight commaunde- 

ment 



CANTO Xll.J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



445 



That noue should dare him once to euter- 

taiue ; 
Which none durst breake, though many 

would right faine 
For faire Ireua, whom they loved deare : 
But yet old Sergis did so well him paine, 
That from close friends, that dar'd not to 

appeare, 
He all things did purvay which for them 

needfuU weare. 



The morrow next, that was the dismall 
day 
Appointed for Irenas death before, 
So soone as it did to the world display 
His chearefuU face, and light to men re- 
store. 
The heavy Mayd, to whom none ty dings 

bore 
Of Artegals arryvall her to free, 
Lookt up with eyes full sad and hart full 

sore. 
Weening her lifes last howre then neare 

to bee, 
Sith no redemption nigh she did nor heare 
nor see. 

XII. 

Then up she rose, and on her selfe did 
dight- 

Most squalid garments, fit for such a 
day; 

And with dull countenance and with dole- 
ful spright 

She forth was brought in sorrowfull dis- 
may 

For to receive the doome of her decay: 

But comming to the place, and finding 
there 

Sir Artegall, in battailous array 

Wayting his foe, it did her dead hart 
cheare. 

And new life to her lent in midst of deadly 
feare. 

XIII. 

Like as a tender Rose in open plaine. 

That with untimely drought nigh with- 
ered was, 

And hung the head, soone as few drops of 
raine 

Thereon distill and deaw her daintie 
face. 

Gins to looke up, and with fresh wonted 
grace 

Dispreds the glorie of her leaves gay; 

Such was Irenas countenance, such her 
case. 

When Artegall she saw in that array. 

There wayting for the Tyrant till it was 
farre day. 



Who came at length with proud pre- 

sumpteous gate 
Into the field, as if he fearelesse were, 
All armed in a cote of yron plate 
Of great defence to ward the deadly feare ; 
And on his head a steele-cap he did weare 
Of colour rustie-browne, but sure and 

strong ; 
And in his hand an huge Polaxe did beare, 
Whose steale was yron-studded, but not 

long, 
With which he wont to fight to justifie his 

wrong; 

XV. 

Of stature huge and hideous he was, 
Like to a Giant for his monstrous bight, 
And did in strength most sorts of men 

surpas, 
Ne ever any found his match in might; 
Thereto he had great skill in single fight: 
His face was ugly and his countenance 

Sterne, 
That could have frayd one with the very 

sight, 
And gaped like a gulfe when he did gerne ; 
That whether man or monster one could 

scarse discerne. 



Soone as he did within the listes ap- 
peare. 
With dreadfull looke he Artegall beheld, 
As if he w^ould have daunted him with 

feare ; 
And, grinning griesly, did against him 

weld 
His deadly weapon which in hand he held : 
But th' Elfin swayne, that oft had scene 

like sight, 
Was with his ghastly cottnt'nance nothing 

queld ; 
But gan him streight to buckle to the 

fight. 
And cast his shield about to be in readie 

plight. 

XVII. 

The trompets sound, and they together 

goe 
With dreadfull terror and with fell intent ; 
And their huge strokes full daungerously 

bestow. 
To doe most dammage where as most 

they ment : 
But with such force and furie violent 
The Tyrant thundred his thicke blowesso 

fast, 
That through the yron walles their way 

they rent, 



446 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



And eveu to the vitall parts they past, 
Ne ought could them endure, but all they 
cleft or brast. 

XVIII. 

Which cruell outrage when as Artegall 
Did well avize, thenceforth with warie 

heed 
He shund his strokes, where ever they 

did fall, 
And way did give unto their gracelesse 

speed : 
As when a skilfull Marriner doth reed 
A storme approchiug that doth perill 

threat, 
He will not bide the daunger of such 

dread, 
But strikes his sayles, and vereth his 

mainsheat, 
And lends unto it leave the emptie ayre 

to beat. 

XIX. 

So did the Faerie knight him self e 

abeare, 
And stouped oft his head from shame to 

shield : 
No shame to stoupe, ones head more high 

to reare ; 
And, much to gaiue, a litle for to yield: 
So stoutest knights doen oftentimes in 

field. 
But still the tyrant sternely at him layd. 
And did his yrou axe so nimbly wield, 
That many wounds into his flesh it made, 
And with his burdenous blowes him sore 

did overlade. 



Yet when as fit advantage he did spy. 
The whiles the cursed felon high did reare 
His cruell hand to smite him mortally. 
Under his stroke he to him stepping neare 
Right in the rtanke him strooke with 

deadly dreare, 
That the gore-bloud thence gushnig griev- 
ously 
Did underneath him like a pond appeare. 
And all his armour did with purple dye : 
Thereat he brayed loud, and yelled dread- 
fully. 



Yet the huge stroke, which he before 

intended. 
Kept on his course as he did it direct, 
And with such monstrous poise adowne 

descended. 
That seemed nought could him from death 

protect : 
But he it well did ward with wise respect, 



And twixt him and the blow his shield did 

cast. 
Which thereon seizing tooke no great 

effect ; 
But, by ting deepe therein did sticke so fast 
That by no meanes it backe againe he forth 

could wrast. 



Long while he tug'd and strove to get it 

out, 
And all his powre applyed thereunto. 
That he therewith the knight drew all 

about 
Nathlesse, for all that ever he could doe, 
His axe he could not from his shield un- 

doe; 
Which Artegall perceiving strooke no 

more. 
But loosing soone his shield did it forgoe ; 
And, whiles he combred was therewith so 

sore. 
He gan at him let drive more fiercely then 

afore. 

XXIII. 

So well he him pursew'd, that at the last 
He stroke him with Chrysaor on the bed. 
That with the souse thereof full sore 

aghast 
He staggered to and fro in doubtfull sted. 
Againe, whiles he him saw so ill bested, 
He did him smite with all his might and 

maine, 
That, falling on his mother earth he fed : 
AVhom when he saw prostrated on the 

plaine. 
He lightly reft his head to ease him of his 

pafne. 

XXIV. 

Which when the people round about him 

saw. 
They shouted all for joy of his successe, 
Glad to be quit from that proud Tyrants 

awe. 
Which with strong powre did them long 

time oppresse ; 
And, running all with greedie joyfulnesse 
To faire Irena, at her feet did fall, 
And her adored with due humblenesse 
As their true Liege and Princesse naturall ; 
And eke her champions glorie sounded 

overall. 

XXV. 

Who streight her leading with meete 

majestic 
Unto the pallace where their kings did 

rayne. 
Did her therein establish peaceablie. 
And to her kingdomes seat restore agayne : 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



447 



And all such persons, as did late raain- 

tayne 
That Tyrauts part with close or open ayde, 
He sorely punished with heavie payne ; 
That in short space, whiles there with her 

he stayd, 
Not one was left that durst her once have 

disobayd. 

XXVI. 

During which time that he did there re- 

ruayue, 
His studie was true Justice how to deale, 
And day and night eraploy'd his busie 

paine 
How to reforme that ragged commou- 

weale : 
And that same yron man, which could re- 

veale 
All hidden crimes, through all that realme 

he sent 
To search out those that usd to rob and 

steale, 
Or did rebell gainst lawfull government ; 
On whom he did inflict most grievous pun- 
ishment. 

XXVII. 

But, ere he coulde reforme it thoroughly, 
He through occasion called was away 
To Faerie Court, that of necessity 
His course of Justice he was forst to stay. 
And 'I'alus to revoke from the right way 
In which he was that Realme for to re- 

dresse : 
But envies cloud stilldimmeth vertuesray. 
So, having freed Irena from distresse. 
He tooke his leave of her there left in 

heaviuesse. 

XXVIII. 

Tho, as he backe returned from that 

land, 
And there arriv'd again e whence forth he 

set, 
He had not passed farre upon the strand, 
"When as two old ill favour'd Hags he met, 
By the way side being together set ; 
Two griesly creatures : and, to that their 

faces 
Most foule and filthie were, their garments 

yet, 

Being all rag'd and tatter'd, their disgraces 
Did much the more augment, and made 
most ugly cases. 



The one of them, that elder did appeare. 
With her dull eyes did seeme to looke 

askew, 
That her mis-shape much helpt ; and her 

foule heare 



Hung loose and loathsomely : Thereto her 

hew 
Was wan and leane, that all her teeth 

arew. 
And all her bones might through her 

cheekes be red : 
Her lips were, like raw lether, pale and 

blew: 
And as she spake therewith she slavered ; 
Yet spake she seldom, but thought more 

the lesse she sed. 

XXX. 

Her hands were foule and durtie, never 

washt 
In all her life, with long nayles over- 

raught, 
Like puttocks clawes ; with th' one of 

which she scracht 
Her cursed head, although it itched 

naught : 
The other held a snake with venime 

fraught, 
On wliich she fed and gnawed hungrily, 
As if that long she had not eaten ought ; 
That round about her jawes one might 

descry 
The bloudie gore and poyson dropping 

lothsomely. 



Her name was Envie, kuowen well 

thereby, 
Whose nature is to grieve and grudge at all 
That ever she sees doen prays-worthily ; 
Whose sight to her is greatest crosse may 

fall. 
And vexeth so that makes her eat her gall ; 
For, when she wanteth other thing to eat, 
She feedes on her owne maw unnaturall. 
And of her owne foule entrayles makes 

her meat ; 
Meat fit for such a monsters monsterous 

dyeat: 

XXXII. 

And if she hapt of any good to heare. 
That had to any happily betid, 
Then would she inly fret, and grieve, and 

teare 
Her flesh for felnesse, which she inward 

hid: 
But if she heard of ill that any did, 
Or harme that any had, then would she 

make 
Great cheare, like one unto a banquet 

bid. 
And in anothers losse great pleasure 

take, 
As she had got thereby and gayned a great 

stake. 



448 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book v. 



The other nothing better was then shee, 
Agreeing in bad will and cancred kynd ; 
But in bad maner they did disagree, 
For what so E^vie good or bad did fynd 
She did couceale, and murder her owne 

mynde ; 
But this, what ever evill she conceived, 
Did spred abroad and throw in th' open 

wyud : 
Yet this in all her words might be per- 
ceived. 
That all she sought was mens good name 
to have bereaved. 



For, whatsoever good by any sayd 
Or doen she heard, she would streight- 

wayes invent 
How to deprave or slaimderously upbrayd, 
Or to misconstrue of a mans intent. 
And turne to ill the thing that well was 

ment : 
Therefore she used often to resort 
To common haunts, and companies fre- 
quent. 
To hearke what any one did good report, 
To blot the same with blame, or wrest in 
wicked sort. 



And if that any ill she heard of any, 
She would it eeke, and make much worse 

by telling. 
And take great joy to publish it to many. 
That every matter worse was for her 

melling: 
Her name was hight Detraction, and her 

dwelling 
Was neare to Envie, even her neighbour 

next; 
A wicked hag, and Envy selfe excelling 
In mischiefe ; for her selfe she onely vext. 
But this same both her selfe and others 

eke perplext. 



Her face was ugly, and her mouth dis- 
tort, 

Foming with poyson round about her 
gils, 

In which her cursed tongue, full sharjie 
and short, 

Appear'd like Aspis sting that closely kils, 

Or cruelly does wound whom so she wils ; 

A distaffe in her other hand she had, 

Upon the which she litle spiunes, but 
spils ; 

And faynes to weave false tales and leas- 
ings bad, 



To throw amongst the good which others 
had disprad. 



These two now had themselves combyud 

in one. 
And linckt together gainst Sir Artegall ; 
For whom they wayted as his mortall fone. 
How they might make him into mischiefe 

fall. 
For freeing from their snares Ireiia thrall : 
Besides, unto themselves they gotten had 
A monster, which the Blatant Beast men 

call, 
A dreadful! feend, of gods and men ydrad. 
Whom they by slights allur'd, and to their 

purpose lad. 



Such were these Hags, and so unhand- 
some drest : 
Who when they nigh approching had 

espyde 
Sir Artegall, return'd from his late quest, 
They both arose, and at him loudly cryde, 
As it had bene two shepheards curres had 

scryde 
A ravenous Wolfe amongst the scattered 

fiockes : 
And Envie first, as she that first him eyde, 
Towardes him runs, and, with rude flaring 

lockes 
About her eares, does beat her brest and 
forhead knockes. 



Then from her mouth the gobbet she 

does take, 
The which whyleare she was so greedily 
Devouring, even that halfe-gnawen snake, 
x\nd at him throwes it most despightfully : 
The cursed Serpent, though she hungrily 
Earst chawd thereon, yet was not all so 

dead 
But that some life remayned secretly ; 
And, as he past afore withouten dread, 
Bit him behind, that long the marke was 

to be read. 



Then th' other comming neare gan him 
revile, 
And fouly rayle with all she could invent ; 
Saying that be bad, with unmanly guile 
And foule abusion, both his honour blent, 
And that bright sword, the sword of Jus- 
tice lent, 
Had stayned with reprochfull crueltie 
In guiltiesse blood of many an innocent: 
As for Grandtorto, him with treacherie 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



449 



And traynes having surpriz'd, he fouly 
did to die. 

XLI. 

Thereto the Blatant Beast, by them set 
on, 
At him began aloud to barke and bay 
AVith bitter rage and fell contention, 
That all the woods and rockes nigh to 

that way 
Began to quake and tremble with dis- 
may ; 
And all the aire rebellowed againe, 
So dreadfully his hundred tongues did 

bray: 
And evermore those hags them selves did 

paine 
To sharpen him, and their owne cursed 
tongs did straine. 

XLII. 

And still among most bitter wordes they 

spake, 
Most shamefull, most unrighteous, most 

untrew. 
That they the mildest man alive would 

make 
Forget bis patience, and yeeld ven- 

geaunce dew 



To her, that so false sclaunders at him 

threw : 
And more, to make them pierce and 

wound more deepe, 
She with the sting which in her vile 

tongue grew 
Did sharpen them, and in fresh poyson 

steepe : 
Yet he past on, and seem'd of them to 

take no keepe. 



But Talus, hearing her so lewdly raile. 

And speake so ill of him that well de- 
served, 

Would her have chastiz'd with his yron 
flaile. 

If her Sir Artegall had not preserved. 

And him forbidden, who his heast ob- 
served : 

So much the more at him still did she 
scold. 

And stones did cast ; yet he for nought 
would swerve 

From his right course, but still the way 
did hold 

To Faerie Court; where what him fell 
shall else be told. 



THE SIXTE BOOKE 

OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE 

CONTATNING THE LEGEND OF SIR CALIDORE, OR COURTESIE. 



The waies, through which my weary 

steps I guyde 
In this deliglitfull hind of Faery, 
Are so exceeding spacious and wyde, 
And sprinckled with such sweet variety 
Of all that pleasant is to eare or eye, 
That I, nigh ravisht with rare thoughts 

delight. 
My tedious travell doe forget thereby ; 
And, when I gin to feele decay of might, 
It strength to me supplies, and chears my 

dulled spright. 



Such secret comfort and such heavenly 
pleasures, 
Ye sacred imps, that on Parnasso dwell, 
And there the keeping have of learnings 

threasures 
"Which doe all worldly riches farre ex- 
cell. 
Into the mindes of mortall men doe well, 
And goodly fury into them infuse, 
Guyde ye my footing, and conduct me 

well 
In these strange waies where never foote 

did use, 
Ne none can find but who was taught 
them by the Muse. 



Revele to me the sacred noursery 
Of vertue, which with you doth there re- 

maine. 
Where it in silver bowre does hidden ly 
From view of men, and wicked worlds 

disdaine ; 
Since it at first was by the Gods with 

paine 
Planted in earth, being derived at furst 
From heavenly seedes of bounty sov- 

eraine, 
And by them long with carefull labour 

nurst, 
Till it to ripenesse grew, and forth to hon- 
our burst. 



I IV. 

Amongst them all growes not a fayrer 
flowre 
I Then is the blossme of comely courte- 
I sie; 

j "Which though it on a lowly stalke doe 
I bowre. 

Yet brancheth forth in brave nobilitie, 
Aud^spreds it selfe through all civilitie : 
Of which though present age doe plefite- 

ous seeme, 
Yet, being matcht with plaine Antiquitie, 
Ye will them all but fayned showes 

esteeme, 
Which carry colours faire that feeble eies 
misdeeme. 

V. 

But, in the triall of true curtesie, 
Its now so farre from that which then it 

was, 
That it mdeed is nought but forgerie, 
Fashion'd to please the eies of them that 

pas, 
"Which see not perfect things but in a 

glas: 
Yet is that glasse so gay, that it can 

blynd 
The wisest sight to thinke gold that is 

bras: 
But vertues seat is deepe within the mynd, 
And not in outward shows, but inward 

thoughts defynd. 



But where shall I in all Antiquity 
So faire a patterne finde, where may be 

scene 
The goodly praise of Princely curtesie. 
As in your sejfe, O soveraine Lady 

Queene ? / 
In whose pure minde, as in a mirrour 

sheene. 
It showes, and with her brightuesse doth 

inflame 
The eyes of all which thereon fixed 

beene, 
But meriteth indeede an higher name : 
450 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



45 



Yet so from low to high uplifted is your 
fame. 

VII. 

Theu pardon me, most dreaded Sov- 

eraine, 
That from your selfe I doe this vertue 

bring,' 
And to your selfe doe it returne agaiue. 
So from the Ocean all rivers spring, 



And tribute baeke repay as to their 
King : 

Right so from you all goodly vertues well 

Into the rest which round about you 
ring, 

Faire Lords and Ladies which about you 
dwell, 

And doe adorne your Court where cour- 
tesies excel!. 



CANTO I. 

Calidore saves from Maleffort 

A Damzell used vylde : 
Doth vanquish Crudor ; and doth make 

Briana wexe more mvlde. 



Of Court, it seemes, men Courtesie doe 

call, 
For that it there most useth to abound ; 
And well beseemeth that in Princes hall 
That vertue should be plentifully found, 
Which of all goodly manners is the ground. 
And roote of civill conversation : 
Riglit so in Faery court it did redound, 
Where curteous Knights and Ladies most 

did won 
Of all on earth, and made a matchlesse 

paragon. 

II. 

But mongst them all was none more 

courteous Knight 
Then Calidore, beloved over-all, 
In whom, it seemes, that geutlenesse of 

spright 
And manners mylde were planted natu- 

rall ; 
To which he adding comely guize withall 
And gracious speach, did steale mens 

hearts away : 
Nathlesse thereto he was full stout and 

tall. 
And well approv'd in batteilous affray, 
That him did much renowme, and far his 

fame display. 



Ne was there Knight no was there Lady 
found 

In Faery court, but him did deare em- 
brace 

For his faire usage and conditions sound, 

The which in all mens liking gayned 
place, 

And with the greatest purchast greatest 
grace : 

Which he could wisely use, and well 
apply. 



To please the best, and th' evill to em- 
base; 
For he loathd leasing and base flattery, 
And loved simple truth and stedfast hon- 
esty. 

IV. 

And now he was in travell on his way, 
Uppon an hard adventure sore bestad, 
Whenas by chaunce he met uppon a 

day 
With Artegall, returning yet halfe sad 
From his late conquest which he gotten 

had: 
Who whenas each of other had a sight, 
They knew them selves, and both their 

persons rad ; 
When Calidore thus first : ' Haile, noblest 

Knight 
Of all this day on ground that breathen 

living spright ! 



* Now tell, if please you, of the good 
successe 

Which ye have had in your late enter- 
prize.' 

To whom Sir Artegall gan to expresse 

His whole exploite and valorous emprize, 

In order as it did to him arize. 

'Now, happy man,' (sayd then Sir Cali- 
dore) 

* Which have, so goodly as ye can devize, 

Atchiev'd so hard a quest, as few before; 

That shall you most renowmed make for 
evermore. 

VI. 

' But where ye ended have, now I be- 
gin 
To tread an endlesse trace, withouten 

guyde 
Or good direction how to enter in, 
Or how to issue forth in waies untryde. 



452 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



In perils strange, in labours long and 
wide; 

In which although good Fortune me be- 
fall, 

Yet shall it not by none be testifyde.' 

'What is that quest,' (quoth then Sir 
Artegall) 

' That you into such perils presently doth 
call?' 

VII. 

' The Blattant Beast ' (quoth he) ' I doe 

purse w, 
And through the world incessantly doe 

chase, 
Till I him overtake, or else subdew : 
Yet know I not or how, or in what place 
To find him out, yet still I forward trace.' 
' What is the Blattant Beast ?' (then he 

replide.) 
* It is a Monster bred of hellishe race,' 
(Then answered he) ' which often hath 

anuoyd 
Good Knights and Ladies true, and many 

else destroyd. 



' Of Cerberus whilome he was begot 
And fell Chimaera, in her darkesome den. 
Through fowle commixture of his filthy 

blot; 
Where he was fostred long in Stygian 

fen. 
Till he to perfect ripenesse grew ; and then 
Into this wicked world he forth was sent 
To be the plague and scourge of wretched 

men. 
Whom with vile tongue and venemous 

intent 
He sore doth wound, and bite, and cruelly 

torment.' 

IX. 

* Then, since the salvage Island I did 

leave,' 
Sayd Artegall, ' I such a Beast did see, 
The which did seeme a thousand tongues 

to have, 
That all in spight and malice did agree ; 
With which he bayd and loudly barkt at 

mee. 
As if that he attonce would me devoure: 
But I, that knew my selfe from perill free, 
Did nought regard his malice nor his 

powre ; 
But he the more his wicked poyson forth 

did poure.' 

X. 

* That surely is that Beast ' (saide Cali- 

dore) 
' Which I pursue, of whom I am right 
glad 



To heare these tidings, which of none 

afore 
Through all my weary travell I have had ; 
Yet now some hope your words unto me 

add.' 
'Now God you speed,' (quoth then Sir 

Artegall) 
' And keepe your body from the daunger 

drad. 
For ye have much adoe to deale withall.' 
So both tooke goodly leave, and parted 

severall. 

XI. 

Sir Calidore thence travelled not long. 
When as by chaunce a comely Squire he 

found, 
That thorough some more mighty enemies 

wrong 
Both hand and foote unto a tree was 

bound ; 
Who, seeing him from farre, with piteous 

sound 
Of his shrill cries him called to his aide : 
To whom approching, in that painefull 

stound 
When he him saw, for uo demaunds he 

staid e, 
But first him losde, and afterwards thus 

to him saide. 

XII. 

'Unhappy Squire! what hard mishap 
thee brought 

Into this bay of perill and disgrace ? 

Whatcruell band thy wretched thraldome 
wrought. 

And thee capty ved in this shame full place ?' 

To whom he answered thus : ' My hap- 
lesse case 

Is not occasiond through my misdesert. 

But through misfortune, which me did 
abase 

Unto this shame, and my young hope sub- 
vert, 

Ere that I in her guilefull traines was well 
expert. 

XIII. 

' Not farre from hence, uppon yond 

rocky hill. 
Hard by a streight, there stands a castle 

strong. 
Which doth observe a custome lewd and 

ill. 
And it hath long mayntaind with mighty 

wrong : 
For may no Knight nor Lady passe along 
That way, (and yet they needs must passe 

that way. 
By reason of the streight, and rocks 

among) 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



453 



But they that Ladies lockes doe shave 

away, 
And that knights herd, for toll which they 

for passage pay.' 



* A shameful use as ever I did heare,' 
Sayd Calidore, ' aud to be overthrowue. 
But by what meaues did they at first it 

reare, 
And for what cause? tell, if thou have it 

kuowue.' 
Sayd then that Squire ; ' The Lady, which 

doth owne 
This Castle, is by name Briana hight. 
Then which a prouder Lady liveth none : 
She long time hath deare lov'd a doughty 

Knight, 
And sought to win his love by all the 

meanes she might. 



' His name is Crudor ; who, through 

high disdaine 
And proud despight of his selfe-pleasing 

mynd, 
Refused hath to yeeld her love againe, 
Untill a Mantle she for him doe fynd 
With beards of Knights and locks of 

Ladies lynd : 
Which to provide she hath this Castle 

dight, 
And therein hath a Seneschall assynd, 
Cald Maleffort, a man of niickle might. 
Who executes her M'icked will with worse 

despight. 

XVI. 

' He, this same day, as I that way did 
come 
With a faire Damzell, my beloved deare, 
In execution of her lawlekse doome 
Did set uppon us tiying both for feare ; 
For little bootes agahist him hand to 

reare. 
Me first he tooke unhable to withstond, 
And whiles he her pursued every where. 
Till his returne unto this tree he bond ; 
Ne wote I surely whether her he yet have 
fond.' 



Thus whiles they spake they heard a 

ruefull shrieke 
Of one loud crying, which they streight- 

way ghesl 
That it was she the which for helpe did 

seeke. 
Tho, looking up unto the cry to lest, 
They saw that Carle from farre, with 

hand unblest 
Hayling that mayden by the yellow heare, 



That all her garments from her snowy 

brest. 
And from her head her lockes he nigh did 

teare, 
Ne would he spare for pitty, nor refrains 

for feare. 

XVIII. 

Which haynous sight when Calidore be- 
held, 

Eftsoones he loosd that Squire, and so 
him left 

With hearts dismay and inward dolour 
queld. 

For to pursue that villaine, which had 
reft 

That piteous spoile by so injurious theft ; 

Whom overtaking, loude to him he cryde : 

' Leave, faytor, quickely that misgotten 
weft 

To him that hath it better justifyde. 

And turne thee soone to him of whom thou 
art defyde.' 



Who, hearkning to that voice, him selfe 

upreard , 
And seeing him so fiercely towardes make, 
Against him stoutly ran, as nought afeard, 
But rather more enrag'd for those words 

sake ; 
And with sterne count'naunce thus unto 

him spake : 
* Art thou the caytive that defy est me ? 
And for this Mayd, whose party thou 

doest take, 
Wilt give thy beard, though it but little 

bee? 
Yet shall it not her lockes for raunsome 

fro me free.' 



With that he fiercely at him flew, and 

layd 
On hideous strokes with most importune 

might, 
That oft he made him stagger as unstayd. 
And oft recuile to shunne his sharpe de- 
spight : 
But Calidore, that was well skild in fight. 
Him long forbore, and still his spirite 

spar'd, 
Lying in waite how him he damadge 

might ; 
But when he felt him shrinke, and come 

to ward, 
He greater grew, and gan to drive at him 

more hard. 



Like as a water-streame, whose swell- 
ing sourse 



454 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Shall drive a Mill, within strong bancks 

is pent, 
And long restrayned of his ready course, 
So scone as passage is unto him lent, 
Breakes forth, and makes his way more 

violent; 
Such was the fury of Sir Calidore : 
When once he felt his foeman to relent, 
He fiercely him pursu'd, and pressed sore ; 
Who as he still decayd so he encreased 

more. 

XXII. 

The heavy burden of whose dreadfull 
might 

Whenas the Carle no longer could sus- 
taine, 

His heart gan faint, and streight he tooke 
his flight 

Toward the Castle, where, if need con- 
st raine, 

His hope of refuge used to remaine : 

Whom Calidore perceiving fast to flie, 

He him pursu'd and chaced through the 
plaine. 

That he for dread of death gan loude to 
crie 

Unto the ward to open to him hastilie. 



They, from the wall him seeing so 
aghast. 
The gate soone opened to receive him in ; 
But Calidore did follow him so fast, 
That even in the Porch he him did win, 
And cleft his head asunder to his chin, 
The carkasse tumbling dowue within the 

dore 
Did choke the entraunce with a lumpe of 

sin, 
That it could not be shut; whilest Cali- 
dore 
Did enter in, and slew the Porter on the 
flore. 

XXIV. 

With that the rest the which the Cas- 
tle kept 
About him flockt, and hard at him did 

lay; 
But he them all from him full lightly 

swept. 
As doth a Steare, in heat of sommers 

day. 
With his long taile the bryzes brush 

away. 
Thence passing forth into the hall he 

came. 
Where of the Lady selfe in sad dismay 
He was ymett, who with uncomely shame 
Gan him salute, and fowle upbrayd with 

faulty blame. 



' False tray tor Knight ! ' (said she) * no 

Knight at all, 
But scorne of armes, that hast with guilty 

hand 
Murdred my men, and slaine my Senes- 

chall. 
Now comest thou to rob my house un- 

mand. 
And spoile my selfe that can not thee 

withstand ? 
Yet doubt thou not, but that some better 

Kuight 
Then thou, that shall thy treason under- 
stand. 
Will it avenge, and pay thee with thy 

right ; 
And if none do, yet shame shal thee with 

shame requight.' 



Much was the Knight abashed at that 
word 
Yet answer'd thus : ' Not unto me the 

shame, 
But to the shamefuU doer it afford, 
Bloud is no blemish, for it is no blame 
To punish those that doe deserve the same ; 
But they that breake bands of civilitie, 
And wicked customes make, those doe de- 
fame 
Both noble armes and gentle curtesie. 
No greater shame to man then inhumani- 
tie. 

XXVII. 

'Then doe your selfe, for dread of 

shame, forgoe 
This evill manner which ye here main- 

taine. 
And doe instead thereof mild curt'sie 

showe 
To all that passe: That shall you glory 

gaine 
More then his love, which thus ye seeke 

t' obtaine.' 
Wherewith all full of wrath she thus re- 

plyde : 
' Vile recreant ! know that I doe much 

disdaine 
Thy courteous lore, that doest my love 

deride. 
Who scornes thy ydle scoffe, and bids 

thee be defyde.' 

XXVIII. 

' To take defiaunce at a Ladies word ' 
(Quoth he) ' I hold it no indignity ; 
But were he here, that would it with his 

sword 
Abett, perhaps he mote it deare aby.' 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



455 



' Cowherd ! ' (quoth she) ' were not that 

thou wouldst fly 
Ere he doe come, he should be sooue in 

place.' 
' If I doe so,' (sayd he) ' then liberty 
I leave to you for aye me to disgrace 
With all those shames, that erst ye spake 

me to deface.' 

XXIX. 

With that a Dwarfeshecald to her in hast. 
And taking from her hand a ring of gould, 
A privy token which betweene them past, 
Bad him to flie with all the speed he could 
To Crudor ; and desire him that he would 
Vouchsafe to reskue her against a Knight, 
Who through strong powre had now her 

self in hould, 
Having late slaiue her Seneschall in fight, 
And all her people murdred with outra- 
gious might : 



The Dwarfe his way did hast, and went 
all night ; 
But Calidore did with her there abyde 
The comming of that so much threatned 

Knight; 
Where that discourteous Dame with scorn- 
full pryde 
And fowle entreaty him indignifyde, 
That yron heart it hardly could sustaine : 
Yet he, that could his wrath full wisely 

guyde, 
Did well endure her womanish disdaine, 
And did him selfe from fraile impatience 
refraine. 

xxx'i. 

The morrow next, before the lampe of 

light 
Above the earth upreard his flaming head. 
The Dwarfe, which bore that message to 

her knight, 
Brought aunswere backe, that ere he tasted 

bread 
He would her succour, and alive or dead 
Her foe deliver up into her hand : 
Therefore he wild her doe away all dread ; 
And, that of him she mote assured stand, 
He sent to her his basenet as a faithful! 

band. 

xxxii. 
Thereof full blyth the Lady streight be- 
came. 
And gan t' augment her bitternesse much 

more ; 
Yet no whit more appalled for the same, 
Ne ought dismayed was Sir Calidore, 
But rather did more chearefuU seeme 

therefore : 



And having soone his armes about him 

dight, 
Did issue forth to meete his foe afore ; 
Where long he stayed not, when as a 

Knight 
He spide come pricking on with all his 

powre and might. 

XXX III. 

Well weend he streight that he should 
be the same 
Which tooke in hand her quarrell to 

maintaiue ; 
Ne stayd to aske if it were he by name, 
But coucht his speare, and ran at him 

amaine. 
They bene ymett in middest of the plaine 
With so fell fury and dispiteous forse. 
That neither could the others stroke sus- 
taine. 
But rudely rowld to ground, both man 

and horse. 
Neither of other taking pitty nor remorse. 



But Calidore uprose againe full light, 
Whiles yet his foe lay fast in sencelesse 

swound ; 
Yet would he not him hurt although he 

might; 
For shame he weend a sleeping wight to 

wound. 
But when Briana saw that drery stound, 
There where she stood uppon the Castle 

wall, 
She deem'd him sure to have bene dead 

on ground ; 
And made such piteous mourning there- 
withal 1, 
That from the battlements she ready 

seem'd to fall. 



Nathlesse at length him selfe he did 
upreare 
In lustlesse wise ; as if against his will, 
Ere he had slept his fill, he wakened were, 
And gan to stretch his limbs ; which feel- 
ing ill 
Of his late fall, awhile he rested still: 
But, when he saw his foe ])efore in vew, 
He shooke off luskishnesse ; and courage 

chill 
Kindling afresli, gan battell to renew, 
To prove if better foote then horsebacke 
would ensew. 

xxxvi. 
There then began a fearefull cruell 
fray 
Betwixt them two for maystery of might; 



456 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



For both were wondrous practicke in that 
play, 

And passing well expert in single fight, 

And both inflam'd with furious despight; 

Which as it still encreast, so still hicreast 

Their cruell strokes and terrible affright ; 

Ne once for ruth their rigour they re- 
least, 

Ne once to breath awhile their angers 
tempest ceast. 



Thus long they trac'd and traverst to 
and fro, 

And tryde all waies how each mote en- 
trance make 

Into the life of his malignant foe: 

They hew'd their helmes, and plates asun- 
der brake, 

As they had potshares bene ; for nought 
mote slake 

Their greedy vengeaunces but goary 
blood, 

That at the last like to a purple lake 

Of bloudy gore congeal'd about them 
stood. 

Which from their riven sides forth gushed 
like a flood. 



At length it chaunst that both their 

hands on hie 
At once did heave with all their powre 

and might, 
Thinking the utmost of their force to trie, 
And prove the fiuall fortune of the fight ; 
But Calidore, that was more quicke of 

sight 
And nimbler handed then his enemie. 
Prevented him before his stroke could 

light, 
And on the helmet smote him formerlie, 
That made him stoupe to ground with 

meeke humilitie: 

'' - XXXIX. 

ere he could recover foote againe, 
He', following that faire advantage fast. 
His stroke redoubled with such might 

and maine. 
That him upon the ground he groveling 

cast; 
And leaping to him light would have un- 

last 
His Helme, to make unto his vengeance 

way : 
Who, seeing in what daunger he was 

plast, 
Cryde out; ' Ah mercie, Sir! doe not me 

slay, 



But save my life, which lot before your 
foot doth lay.' 



With that his mortall hand a while he 

stayd ; 
And, having somewhat calm'd his wrath- 
full heat 
With goodly patience, thus he to him 

sayd: 
' And is the boast of that proud Ladies 

threat. 
That menaced me from the field to beat, 
Now brought to this ? By this now may 

ye learne 
Strangers no more so rudely to entreat, 
But put away proud looke and usage 

Sterne, 
The which shal nought to you but foule 

dishonor yearne. 



' For nothing is more blamefull to a 

knight, 
That court 'sie doth as well as armes pro- 

fesse. 
However strong and fortunate in fight. 
Then the reproch of pride and cruelnesse. 
In vaine he seeketh others to suppresse, 
Who hath not learnd him selfe first to 

subdew : 
All flesh is frayle and full of ficklenesse, 
Subject to fortunes chance, still chaung- 

ing new : 
What haps to day to me to morrow may 

to you. 

XLII. 

' Who will not mercie unto others shew, 
How can he mercy ever hope to have ? 
To pay each with his owne is right and I 

dew; 
Yet since ye mercie now doe need to 

crave, 
I will it graunt, your hopelesse life to 

save. 
With these conditions which I will pro-- 

pound : 
First, that ye better shall your selfe be- 
have 
Unto all errant knights, whereso onr 

ground ; 
Next, that ye Ladies ayde in every stead 

and stound.' 



The wretched man, that all this while' 

did dwell 
In dread of death, his heasts did gladly^ 

heare , 
And promist to performe his precept well,l 



CANTO I.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



457 



And whatsoever else he would requere. 
So, suffring him to rise, he made him 

sweare 
By his owue sword, and by the crosse 

thereon. 
To take Briana for his loving fere 
Withouten dowre or composition ; 
But to release his former foule condition. 



All which accepting, and with faithfull 
oth 
Bynding himselfe most firmely to ohay, 
He up arose, however liefe or loth. 
And swore to him true fealtie for aye. 
Then forth he cald from sorrowfull dis- 
may 
The sad Briana which all this beheld ; 
Who comming forth yet full of late affray 
Sir Calidore upcheard, and to her teld 
All this accord to which he Crudor had 
compeld. 

XLV. 

Whereof she now more glad then sory 

earst. 
All overcome with infinite affect 
For his exceeding courtesie, that pearst 
Her stubborne hart with inward deepe 

effect, 
Before his feet her selfe she did project; 
And him adoring as her lives deare Lord, 
With all due thankes and dutifull respect. 
Her selfe acknowledg'd bound for that 

accord, 



By which he had to her both life and love 

restord. 

XLVI. 

So all returning to the Castle glad. 
Most joyfully she them did entertaine; 
Where goodly glee and feast to them she 

made. 
To show her thankefull mind and mean- 
ing faine. 
By all the meanes she mote it best ex- 

plaine : 
And, after all, unto Sir Calidore 
She freely gave that Castle for his paine, 
And her selfe bound to him for evermore ; 
So wondrously now chaung'd from that 
she was afore. 

XLVII. 

But Calidore himselfe would not re- 

taine 
Nor land nor fee for hyre of his good 

deede, 
But gave them streight unto that Squire 

againe. 
Whom from her Seneschall he lately freed, 
And to his damzell, as their rightfull 

meed 
For recorapence of all their former wrong. 
There he remaind with them right well 

agreed , 
Till of his wounds he wexed hole and 

strong ; 
And then to his first quest he passed forth 

along. 



CANTO n. 

Calidore sees young Tristram slay 
A proud discourteous knight : 

He makes him Squire, and of him learnes 
His state and present plight. 



What vertue is so fitting for a knight. 
Or for a Ladie whom a knight should love. 
As Curtesie ; to beare themselves aright 
To all of each degree as doth behove ? 
For whether they be placed high above 
Or low beneath, yet ought they well to 

know 
Their good ; that none them rightly may 

reprove 
Of rudenesse for not yeelding what they 

owe: 
Great skill it is such duties timely to be- 
stow. 

II. 
Thereto great helpe dame Nature selfe 
doth lend ; 
For some so goodly gratious are by kind, 



That every action doth them much com- 
mend. 

And in the eyes of men great liking find, 

Wliich others that have greater s.]{iV in 
mind. 

Though they enforce themselves;, 'ijiraot 
attaine ; 

For everie thing to which one is inclin'd 

Doth best become and greatest grace doth 
gaine : 

Yet praise likewise deserve good thewes 
enforst with paine. 

III. 

That well in courteous Calidore ap- 
peares ; 
Whose every deed and word, that he did 
say, 



458 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Was like enchantment, that through both 

the eares 
And both the eyes did steale the hart 

away. 
He now againe is on his former way 
To follow his first quest, when as he spyde 
A tall young man, from thence not farre 

away, 
Fighting on foot, as well he him descryde. 
Against an armed knight that did on 

horsebacke ryde. 



And them beside a Ladie faire he saw 
Standing alone on foot in foule array ; 
To whom himselfe he hastily did draw 
To weet the cause of so uncomely fray, 
And to depart them, if so be he may : 
But, ere he came in place, that youth had 

kild 
That armed knight, that low on ground 

he lay : 
Which when he saw, his hart was inly 

child 
With great amazement, and his thought 

with wonder fild. 



Him stedfastly he markt, and saw to 

bee 
A goodly youth of amiable grace, 
Yet but a slender slip, that scarce did see 
Yet seventeene yeares, but tall and faire 

of face, 
That sure he deem'd him borne of noble 

race: 
All in a woodmans jacket he was clad 
Of Lincolne greene, belayd with silver 

lace; 
And on his head an hood with aglets 

sprad. 
And by his side his hunters borne he 

hanging had. 



Buskins he wore of costliest cordwayne, 
Pinckt upon gold, and paled part per part, 
As then the guize was for each gentle 

swyne: 
In his right hand he held a trembling dart, 
Whose fellow he before had sent apart ; 
And in his left he held a sharpe bore- 

speare. 
With which he wont to launch the salvage 

hart 
Of many a Lyon and of many a Beare, 
That first unto his hand in chase did hap- 
pen neare. 

VII. 

Whom Calidore awhile well having 
vewed 



At length bespake ; ' What meanes this, 

gentle Swaine. 
Why hath thy hand too bold it selfe em- 
brewed 
In blood of knight, the which by thee is 

slaine. 
By thee no knight ; which armes impugn- 

eth plaine ? ' 
'Certes,' (said he) 'loth were I to have 

broken 
The law of armes: yet breake it should 

againe. 
Rather then let my selfe of wight be 

stroken, 
So long as these two armes were able to 

be wrokeuc 

VIII. 

' For not I him, as this his Ladie here 

May witnesse well, did offer lirst to wrong, 

Ne surely thus unarm'd I likely were ; 

But he me first through pride and puis- 
sance strong 

Assayld, not knowing what to armes doth 
long.' 

' Perdie great blame ' (then said Sir Cali- 
dore) 

' For armed knight a wight unarm'd to 
wrong : 

But then aread, thou gentle chyld, where- 
fore 

Betwixt you two began this strife and 
Sterne u^rore.' 

rx. 

'That shall I, sooth,' (said he) 'to you 

declare. 
I, whose unryper yeares are yet unfit 
For thing of weight or worke of greater 

care. 
Doe spend my dayes and bend my care- 

lesse wit 
To salvage chace, where I thereon may hit 
In all this forrest and wyld wooddie raine : 
AVhere, as this day I was enraunging it, 
I chaunst to meete this knight, who there 

lyes slaine. 
Together with this Ladie, passing on the 

plaine. 

X. 

' The knight, as ye did see, on horse- 
backe was, 
And this his Ladie (that him ill became) 
On her faire feet by his horse side did pas 
Through thicke and thin, unfit for any 

Dame : 
Yet not content, more to increase his 

shame, 
When so she lagged, as she needs mote so, 
He with his speare, that was to him great 
blame. 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



459 



Would thurape her forward and inforce to 
goe, 

Weeping to him in vaine and making pite- 
ous woe. 



' Which when I saw, as they me passed 

by, 
Much was I moved in indignant mind, 
And gan to blame him for such cruelty 
Towards a Ladie, whom with usage kind 
He rather should have taken up behind : 
Wherewith he wroth, and full of proud 

disdaine, 
Tooke in foule scorne that I such fault did 

find, 
And me in lieu thereof revil'd againe, 
Threatning to chastize me, as doth t'a 

chyld pertaine. 



' Which I no lesse disdayning, backe re- 
turned 
His scornefull taunts unto his teeth againe, 
That he streightway with haughtie choler 

burned. 
And with his speare strooke me one stroke 

or twaine ; 
Which 1, enforst to beare though to my 

paine, 
Cast to requite ; and with a slender dart. 
Fellow of this I beare, throwne not in 

vaine, 
Strooke him, as seemeth, underneath the 

hart. 
That through the wound his spirit shortly 

did depart.' 

XIII. 

Much did Sir Calidore admyre his speach 
Tempred so well, but more admyr'd the 

stroke 
That through the mayles had made so 

strong a breach 
Into his hart, and had so sternely wroke 
His wrath on him that first occasion 

broke ; 
Yet rested not, but further gan inquire 
Of that same Ladie, whether what he 

spoke 
Were soothly so, and that th' unrighteous 

ire 
Of her owne knight had given him his 

owne due hire ? 



Of all which when as she could nought 
deny, 
But cleard that stripling of th' imputed 

blame, 
Sayd then Sir Calidore ; ' Neither will I 



Him charge with guilt, but rather doe 

quite clame : 
For what he spake, for you he spake it, 

Dame ; 
And what he did, he did him selfe to save : 
Against both which that knight wrought 

knightlesse shame ; 
For knights and all men this by nature 

have. 
Towards all womenkind them kindly to 

behave. 

XV. 

' But, sith that he is gone irrevocable. 
Please it you, Ladie, to us to aread 
What cause could make him so dishonour- 
able 
To drive you so on foot, unfit to tread 
And lackey by him, gainst all woman- 
head.' 
' Certes, Sir knight,' (sayd she) ' full loth 

I were 
To rayse a lyving blame against the dead ; 
But since it me concernes my selfe to clere, 
I will the truth discover as it chaunst 
whylere. 

XVI. 

' This day, as he and I together roade 
Upon our way to which we weren bent. 
We chaunst to come foreby a covert glade 
Within a wood, whereas a Ladie gent 
Sate with a knight in joyous jolliment 
Of their f ranke loves, free from all gealous 

spyes. 
Faire was the Ladie, sure, that mote con- 
tent 
An hart not carried with too curious eyes, 
And unto him did shew all lovely courte- 
sy es. 

XVII. 

' W' hom when my knight did see so lovely 

faire, 
He inly gan her lover to envy. 
And wish that he part of his spoyle might 

share: 
Whereto when as my presence he did spy 
To be a let, he bad me by and by 
For to alight: but when as I ^vh.% loth 
My loves owne part to leave so suddenly. 
He with strong hand downe from his steed 

me throw 'th 
And with presumpteous powre against 

that knight streight go'th. 

XVIII. 

' Unarm'd all was the knight, as then 

more meete 

For Ladies service, and for loves delight, 

Then fearing any foemau there to meete: 

Whereof he taking oddes, streight bids him 

dight 



460 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Himself e to yeeld his Love, or else to fight : 
AVhereat the other starting up dismayd, 
Yet boldly answer'd, as he rightly might, 
To leave his love he should be ill apayd. 
In which he had good right gaynst all that 
it gainesayd. 



* Yet since he was not presently in plight 
Her to defend, or his to justifie. 

He him requested, as he was a knight, 
To lend him day his better right to trie. 
Or stay till he his armes, which were 

thereby, 
Might lightly fetch : But he was fierce and 

whot, 
Ne time would give, nor any termes aby. 
But at him flew, and with his speare him 

smot; 
From which to thinke to save himself e it 

booted not. 

XX. 

* Meane while his Ladie, which this out- 

rage saw, 
Whilest they together for the quarrey 

strove. 
Into the covert did her selfe withdraw. 
And closely hid her selfe within the grove. 
My knight hers soone, as seemes, to daun- 

ger drove. 
And left sore wounded : but, when her he 

mist, 
He woxe halfe mad ; and in that rage gan 

rove 
And range through all the wood, where so 

he wist 
She hidden was, and sought her so long as 

him list. 

XXI. 

' But, when as her he by no meanes could 

find, 
After long search and chauff he turned 

backe 
Unto the place where me he left behind : 
There gan he me to curse and ban, for lacke 
Of that f aire bootie, and with bitter wracke 
To wreake on me the guilt of his owne 

wrong : 
Of all which I yet glad to beare the packe 
Strove to appease him, and perswaded 

long; 
But still his passion grew more violent and 

strong. 

XXII. 

* Then, as it were t' avenge his wrath on 

mee. 
When forward we should fare he flat re- 
fused 
To take me up (as this young man did see) 
Upon his steed, for no just cause accused, 



But forst to trot on foot, and foule mis- 
used, 

Pounching me with the butt end of his 
speare. 

In value complayning to be so abused ; 

For he regarded neither playnt nor teare, 

But more enforst my paine, the more my 
plaints to heare. 

XXIII. 

'So passed we till this young man us 

met ; 
And being moov'd with pittie of my plight 
Spake, as was meet, for ease of my regret : 
Wliereof befell what now is in your sight.' 
' Now sure,' (then said Sir Calidore) ' and 

right, 
Me seemes, that him befell by his owne 

fault : 
Who ever thinkes through confidence of 

might. 
Or through support of count'nance proud 

anil hault, 
To wrong the weaker, oft f alles in his owne 

assault.' 

XXIV. 

Then turning backe unto that gentle boy 
Which had himselfe so stoutly well acquit, 
Seeing his face so lovely steriie and coy, 
And hearing th' answeres of his pregnant 

wit. 
He praysd it much, and much admyred it ; 
That sure he weend him borne of noble 

blood. 
With whom those graces did so goodly 

fit: 
And wlien belong had him beholding stood, 
He burst into these wordes, as to him 

seemed good : 



' Faire gentle swayne, and yet as stout 

as fay re. 
That in these woods amongst the Nymphs 

dost wonne. 
Which daily may to thy sweete lookes re- 

payre. 
As they are wont unto Latonaes sonne 
After his chace on woodie Cynthus donne ; 
Well may I, certes, such an one thee read. 
As by tliy worth thou worthily hast wonne, 
Or surely borne of some Heroicke sead, 
That in thy face appeares and gratious 

goodly-head. 



' But, should it not displease thee it to 
tell, 
(Unlesse thou in these woods thy selfe 
conceale 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



46 



For love amongst the woodie Gods to 

dwell) 
I would thy selfe require thee to reveale, 
For deare affection and unfayned zeale 
Which to thy noble personage I beare, 
And wish thee grow in worship and great 

weale ; 
For, since the day that armes I first did 

reare, 
I never saw in any greater hope appeare.' 

XXVII. 

To whom then thus the noble Youth : 

' May be, 
Sir knight, that, by discovering my estate, 
Harme may arise unweeting unto me ; 
Nathelesse, sith ye so courteous seemed 

late. 
To you I will not feare it to relate. 
Then wote ye that I am a Briton borne, 
Sonne of a King, (how ever thorough fate 
Or fortune I my countrie have forlorue, 
And lost the crowne which should my 

head by right adorne,) 



'And Tristram is my name, the onely 

heire 
Of good king Meliogras which did rayne 
In Cornewale, till that he through lives 

despeire 
Untimely dyde, before I did attaine 
Ripe years of reason my right to main- 

taine : 
After whose death his brother, seeing mee 
An infant, weake akingdometo sustaine, 
Upon him tooke the roiall high degree, 
And sent me, where him list, instructed 

for to bee. 

XXIX. 

' The widow Queene my mother, which 
then hight 
Faire Emiline, conceiving them great 

feare 
Of my fraile safetie, resting in the might 
Of him that did the kingly Scepter beare, 
Whose gealous dread induring not a peare 
Is wont to cut off all that doubt may 

breed. 
Thought best away me to remove some- 
where 
Into some forrein land, where as no need 
Of dreaded daunger might his doubtfull 
humor feed. 



' So, taking counsell of a wise man red. 
She was by him ad viz' d to send me quight 
Out of the countrie wherein I was bred, 
The which the fertile Liouesse is hight, 



Into the land of Faerie, where no wight 
Should weet of me, nor worke me any 

wrong : 
To whose wise read she hearkuing sent 

me streight 
Into this land, where I have wond thus 

long 
Since I was ten yeares old, now growen 

to stature strong. 

XXXI. 

' All w^hich my dales I have not lewdly 

spent, 
Nor spilt the blossome of my tender 

yeares 
In ydlesse ; but, as M^as convenient, 
Have trayned bene with many noble 

feres 
In gentle thewes and such like seemly 

leres : 
Mongst which my most delight hath al- 

waies been 
To hunt the salvage chace, amongst my 

peres. 
Of all that raungeth in the forrestgreene, 
Of which none is to me unknowne that 

ev'r was scene. 



' Ne is there hauke which mantleth her 

on pearch, 
Whether high towring or accoasting low, 
But I the measure of her flight doe search. 
And all her pray and all her diet know. 
Such be our joyes which in these forrests 

grow : 
Onely the use of armes, which most I joy. 
And fitteth most for noble swayne ito 

know, 
I have not tasted yet ; yet past a boy, 
And being now high time these strong 

joynts to imploy. 

XXXIII. 

'Therefore, good Sir, sith now occasion 

fit 
Doth fall, whose like hereafter seldome 

may, 
Let me this crave, unworthy though of 

it, 
That ye will make me Squire without 

delay, 
That from henceforth in batteilous array 
I may beare armes, and learue to use 

them right ; 
The rather, since that fortune hath this 

day 
Given to me the spoile of this dead knight, 
These goodly gilden armes which I have 

won in fight.' 



462 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



XXXIV. 

All which when well Sir Calidore had 

heard, 
Him much more now then earst he gan 

admire 
For the rare hope which in his yeares 

appear 'd, 
And thus replide : ' Faire chjid, the high 

desire 
To love of armes, which in you doth 

aspire, 
I may not, certes, without blame denie. 
But rather wish that some more nol3le 

hire 
(Though none more noble then is chev- 

alrie) 
I had, you to reward with greater dig- 

nitie.' 

XXXV. 

There him he causd to kneele, and 

made to sweare 
Faith to his knight, and truth to Ladies 

all, 
And never to be recreant for feare 
Of perill, or of ought that might befall : 
So he him dubbed, and his Squire did call. 
Full glad and joyous then young Tristram 

grew ; 
Like as a flowre, whose silken leaves small 
Long shut up in the bud from heavens 

vew, 
At length breakes forth, and brode dis- 

playes his smyling hew. 

XXXVI. 

Thus when they long had treated to 

and fro. 
And Calidore betooke him to depart, 
Chyld Tristram prayd that he with him 

might goe 
On his adventure, vowing not to start. 
But wayt on him in every place and part : 
Whereat Sir Calidore did much delight. 
And greatly joy'd at his so noble hart, 
In hope he sure would prove a doughtie 

knight : 
Yet for the time this answere he to him 

beliight. 

XXXVII. 

' Glad would I surely be, thou courteous 

Squire, 
To have thy presence in my present quest. 
That mote thy kindled courage set on fire. 
And flame forth honour in thy noble brest ; 
But I am bound by vow, which I protest 
To my dread Soveraine, when I itassayd, 
That in atchieveraent of her high behest 
I should no creature joyne unto mine 

ayde: 



For-thy I may not graunt that ye so 
greatly prayd e. 



' But since this Ladie is all desolate, 
And needeth safegard now upon her way, 
Ye may doe well, in this her needfull 

state. 
To succour her from daunger of dismay. 
That thankfull guerdon may to you re- 
pay.' 
The noble ympe, of such new service 

fayne, 
It gladly did accept, as he did say: 
So taking courteous leave they parted 

twayne, 
And Calidore forth passed to his former 
payne. 

XXXIX. 

But Tristram, then despoyling that 

dead knight 
Of all those goodly implements of prayse, 
Long fed his greedie eyes with the faire 

sight 
Of the bright mettall shyning like Sunne 

rayes. 
Handling and turning them a thousand 

wayes : 
And, after having them upon him dight. 
He tooke that Ladie, and her up did rayse 
Upon the steed of her owne late dead 

knight; 
So with her marched forth, as she did him 

behight. 

XL. 

There to their fortune leave we t'.iem 

awhile. 
And turne we backe to good Sir Calidore ; 
Who, ere he thence had traveild many a 

mile, 
Came to the place whereas ye heard afore 
This knight, whom Tristram slew, had 

wounded sore 
Another knight in his despiteous pryde: 
There he that knight found lying on the 

flore 
With many wounds full perilous and 

wyde. 
That all his garments and the grasse in 

vermeill dyde. 



And there beside him sate upon the 

ground 
His wofull Ladie, piteously complayning 
With loud laments that most unluckie 

stound. 
And her sad selfe with carefull hand con- 

strayning, 



CANTO II.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



463 



To wype his wounds, and ease their bitter 

payning. 
Which sorie sight when Calidore did vew 
With heavie eyne, from teares uneath re- 

frayning, 
His mightie hart their mournefull case 

can rew, 
And for their better comfort to them 

nigher drew. 

XLII. 

Then speaking to the Ladie thus he 

said: 
' Ye dolefull Dame, let not your griefe 

empeach 
To tell what cruell hand hath thus arayd 
This knight unarm 'd with so unknightly 

breach 
Of armes, that, if I yet him nigh may 

reach, 
I may avenge him of so foule despight.' 
The Ladie, hearing his so courteous 

speach, 
Gan reare her eyes as to the chearefull 

light, 
And from her sory hart few heavie words 

forth sight : 



In which she shew'd, how that discour- 
teous knight, 

(Whom Tristram slew) them in that 
shadow found 

Joying together in unblam'd delight; 

And him unarm'd, as now he lay on 
ground, 

Charg'd with his speare, and mortally did 
wound, 

Withouten cause, but onely her to reave 

From him to whom she was for ever 
bound: 

Yet when she fled into that covert greave, 

He, her not finding, both them thus nigh 
dead did leave. 



When Calidore this ruefull storie had 
Well understood, he gan of her demand. 
What manner wight he was, and how 

yclad. 
Which had this outrage wrought with 

wicked hand. 
She then, like as she best could under- 
stand, 
Him thus describ'd ; to be of stature large, 
Clad all in gilden arms, with azure band 
Quartred athwart, and bearing in his 

targe 
A Ladie on rough waves row'd in a som- 
mer barge. 



XLV. 

Then gan Sir Calidore toghesse streight- 

way, 
By many signes which she described 

had. 
That this was he whom Tristram earst did 

slay. 
And to her said : ' Dame, be no longer 

sad; 
For he, that hath your Knight so ill bestad, 
Is now him selfe in much more wretched 

plight : 
These eyes him saw upon the cold earth 

sprad, 
The meede of his desert for that despight. 
Which to your selfe he wrought and to 

your loved knight. 

XLVI. 

' Therefore, faire Lady, lay aside this 

griefe, 
Which ye have gathered to your gentle 

hart 
For that displeasure, and thinke what re- 

liefe 
Were best devise for this your lovers 

smart ; 
And how ye may him hence, and to what 

part, 
Convay to be recur 'd.' She thankt him 

deare 
Both for that newes he did to her impart, 
And for the courteous care which he did 

beare 
Both to her love and to her selfe in that 

sad dreare. 

XLVII. 

Yet she could not devise by any wit. 
How thence she might convay him to some 

place; 
For him to trouble she it thought unfit, 
That was a straunger to her wretched 

case; 
And him to beare she thought it thing too 

base. 
Which when as he perceiv'd he thus be- 
spake : 
' Faire Lady, let it not you seeme disgrace 
To beare this burden on your dainty 

backe ; 
My selfe will beare a part, coportion of 
your packe.' 

XLVIII. 

So off he did his shield, and downeward 

layd 
Upon the ground, like to an hollow beare ; 
And powring balme, which he had long 

purvayd. 



464 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



Fbook VI. 



Into his wounds, him up thereon did reare, 
And twixt them both with parted paines 

did beare, 
Twixt life and death, not knowing what 

was donne. 



Thence they him carried to a Castle neare, 
In which a worthy aimcient Knight did 

wonne: 
Where what ensu'd shall in next Canto be 

begonne. 



CANTO III. 

Calidore brings Priscilla home ; 

Pursues the lilatant Beast : 
Saves Serena, whilest Calepine 

By Turpine is opprest. 



True is, that whilome that good Poet 

sayd, 
The gentle minde by gentle deeds is 

knowue : 
For a man by nothing is so well bewrayd 
As by his manners; in which plaine is 

shown e 
Of what degree and what race he is 

growne : 
For seldome seene a trotting Stalion get 
An ambling Colt, that is his proper owne : 
So seldome seene that one in basenesse set 
Doth noble courage shew with curteous 

manners met. 



But evermore contrary had bene tryde, 
That gentle bloud will gentle manners 

breed ; 
As well may be in Calidore descryde, 
By late ensample of that courteous deed 
Done to that wounded Knight in his great 

need, 
Whom on his backe he bore, till he him 

brought 
Unto the Castle where they had decreed : 
There of the Knight, the which that Castle 

ought, 
To make abode that night he greatly was 

besought. 

III. 

He was to weete a man of full ripe 
yeares. 

That in his youth had beene of mickle 
might, 

And borne great sway in armes amongst 
his peares ; 

But now weake age had dimd his candle- 
light: 

Yet was he courteous still to every wight, 

And loved all that did to armes incline ; 

And was the Father of that wounded 
Knight, 

Whom Calidore thus carried on his chine ; 

And Aldus was his name ; and his sonnes, 
Aladine. 



Who when he saw his sonne so ill be- 

dight 
With bleeding wounds, brought home 

upon a beare 
By a faire Lady and a straunger Knight, 
Was inly touched with compassion deare. 
And deare affection of so dolefull dreare. 
That he these words burst forth : ' Ah, 

sory boy ! 
Is this the hope that to my hoary heare 
Thou brings? aie me! is this the timely 

joy, 

Which I expected long, now turn'd to sad 
annoy ? 

V. 

' Such is the weakenesse of all mortall 
hope. 

So tickle is the state of earthly things. 

That, ere they come unto their aymed 
scope. 

They fall too short of our fraile reckon- 
ings, 

And bring us bale and bitter sorrowings. 

Instead of comfort which we should em- 
brace : 

This is the state of Keasars and of Kings ! 

Let none therefore, that is in meaner 
place, 

Too greatly grieve at any his unlucky 
case.' 

VI. 

So well and wisely did that good old 

Knight 
Temper his griefe, and turned it to cheare 
To cheare his guests whom he had stayd 

that night. 
And make their welcome to them well 

appeare. 
That to Sir Calidore was easie geare ; 
But that faire Lady would be cheard for 

nought. 
But sigh'd and sorrow'd for her lover 

deare. 
And inly did afflict her pensive thought 
With thinking to what case her name 

should now be brought : 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



465 



For she was daughter to a noble Lord 
Which dwelt thereby, who sought her to 

affy 
To a great pere ; but she did disaccord, 
Ne could her liking to his love apply, 
But lov'd this fresh young Knight who 

dwelt her ny, 
The lusty Aladiue, though meaner borne 
And of lesse livelood and hability, 
Yet full of valour the which did adorne 
His meauesse much, and make her th' 

others riches scorne. 

VIII. 

So, having both found fit occasion, 
They met together in that lucklesse 

glade ; 
Where that proud Knight in his presump- 
tion 
The gentle Aladine did earst invade. 
Being unarm 'd and set in secret shade. 
Whereof she now bethinking, gan t' ad- 
vize 
How great a hazard she at earst had made 
Of her good fame ; and further gan devize 
How she the blame might salve with col- 
oured disguize. 

IX. 

But Calidore with all good courtesie 
Fain'd her to frolicke, and to put away 
The pensive fit of her melancholic ; 
And that old Knight by all meanes did 

assay 
To make them both as merry as he may. 
So they the evening past till time of 

rest; 
AVhen Calidore in seemly good array 
Unto his bowre was brought, and there 

undrest 
Did sleepe all night through weary travell 

of his quest. 

X. 

But faire Priscilla (so that Lady bight) 
Would to no bed, nor take no kindely 

sleepe. 
But by her wounded love did watch all 

night, 
And all the night for bitter anguish weepe, 
And with her teares his wounds did wash 

and steepe : 
So well she washt them, and so well she 

wacht him. 
That of the deadly swound , in which full 

deepe 
He drenched was, she at the length dis- 

pacht him, 
And drove away the stound which mor- 
tally attach t him, 



The morrow next, when day gan to up- 

looke. 
He also gan uplooke with drery eye. 
Like one that out of deadly dreame 

awooke : 
Where when he saw his faire Priscilla by. 
He deepely sigh'd, and groaned inwardly. 
To thinke of this ill state in which she 

stood; 
To which she for his sake had weetingiy 
Now brought her selfe, and blam'd her 

noble blood: 
For first, next after life, he tendered her 

good. 

XII. 

Which she perceiving did with plenteous 
teares 

His care more then her owne compassion- 
ate, 

Forgetfull of her owne to minde his feares : 

So both conspiring gan to intimate 

Each others griefe with zeale affection- 
ate, 

And twixt them twaine with equall care 
to cast 

How to save hole her hazarded estate ; 

For which the onely helpe now left them 
last 

Seem'd to be Calidore : all other helpes 
were past. 

XIII. 

Him they did deeme, as sure to them he 

seemed, 
A courteous Knight and full of faithfull 

trust ; 
Therefore to him their cause they best 

esteemed 
Whole to commit, and to his dealing just. 
Earely, so soone as Titans beames forth 

brust 
Through the thicke clouds in which they 

steeped lay 
All night in darkenesse, duld with yron 

rust, 
Calidore rising up as fresh as day 
Gan freshly him addresse unto his former 

way. 

XIV. 

But first him seemed fit that wounded 

Knight 
To visite, after this nights perillous passe. 
And to salute him, if he were in plight, 
And eke that Lady, his faire lovely lasse. 
There he him found much better then he 

was ; 
And moved speach to him of things of 

course, 
The anguish of his paine to overpasse : 



466 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Mongst which he namely did to him dis- 
course 

Of former daies mishap, his sorrowes 
wicked sourse. 



Of which occasion Aldine taking hold 
Gan breake to him the fortunes of his love, 
And all his disadventures to unfold, 
That Calidore it dearly deepe did jnove : 
In th' end, his kyndly courtesie to prove, 
He him by all the bands of love besought, 
And as it mote a faithfull friend behove, 
To safe-conduct his love, and not for 

ought 
To leave, till to her fathers house he had 

her brought. 



Sir Calidore his faith thereto did plight 
It to performe : so after little stay, 
That she her selfe had to the journey 

dight, 
He passed forth with her in faire array, 
Fearlesse who ought did thinke or ought 

did say, 
Sith his own thought he knew most cleare 

from wite : 
So, as they past together on their way. 
He can devize this counter-cast of slight, 
To give faire colour to that Ladies cause 

in sight. 

XVII. 

Streight to the carkasse of that Knight 

he went. 
The cause of all this evill, who was slaine 
The day before by just avengement 
Of noble Tristram, where it did remaine : 
There he the necke thereof did cut in 

twaine, 
And tooke with him the head, the signe 

of shame. 
So forth he passed thorough that daies 

paine, 
Till to that Ladies fathers house he came ; 
Most pensive man, through feare what of 

his childe became. 

XVIII. 

There he arriving boldly did present 
The fearefuU Lady to her father deare. 
Most perfect pure, and guiltlesse innocent 
Of blame, as he did on his Knighthood 

sweare, 
Since lirst he saw her, and did free from 

feare 
( )f a discourteous Knight, who her had reft 
And by outragious force away did beare : 
Witnesse thereof he shew'd his head there 

left, 



And wretched life forlorne for vengement 
of his theft. 



Most joy full man her sire was her to 
see. 
And heare th' adventure of her late mis- 

chauuce ; 
And thousand thankes to Calidore for fee 
Of his large paines in her deliveraunce 
Did yeeld : Ne lesse the Lady did 

advaunce. 
Thus having her restored trustily, 
As he had vow'd, some small continuance 
He there did make, and then most care- 
fully 
Unto his first exploite he did him selfe 
apply. 

XX. 

So, as he was pursuing of his quest. 
He chaunst to come whereas a jolly 

Knight 
In covert shade him selfe did safely rest, 
To solace with his Lady in delight : 
His warlike armes he had from him un- 

dight. 
For that him selfe he thought from daun- 

ger free. 
And far from envious eyes that mote him 

spight ; 
And eke the Lady was full faire to see, 
And courteous withall, becomming her 

degree. 

XXI. 

To whom Sir Calidore approaching nye, 
Ere they were well aware of living wight. 
Them much abasht, but more him selfe 

thereby. 
That he so rudely did uppon them light, 
And troubled had their quiet loves de- 
light: 
Yet since it was his fortune, not his fault, 
Him selfe thereof he labour'd to acquite, 
And pardon crav'd for his so rash de- 
fault. 
That he gainst courtesie so fowly did 
default. 

XXII. 

With which his gentle words and goodly 

wit 
He soone allayd that Knights conceiv'd 

displeasure. 
That he besought him downe by him to sit, 
That they mote treat of things abrode at 

leasure, 
And of adventures, which had in his 

measure 
Of so long waies to him befallen late. 
So downe he sate, and with delightfull 

pleasure 



CANTO 111.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



467 



His long adventures gan to hira relate, 
Which he endured had through daunger- 
ous debate: 



Of which whilest they discoursed both 

together. 
The faire Serena (so his Lady hight) 
AUur'd with myldnesse of the gentle 

wether 
And pleasaunce of the place, the which 

was dight 
With divers flov/res distinct with rare 

delight, 
Waudred about the fields, as liking led 
Her wavering lust after her wandring 

sight. 
To make a garland to adorne her hed. 
Without suspect of ill or daungers hidden 

dred. 

XXIV. 

All sodainely out of the forrest nere 
The Blatant Beast forth rushing unaware 
Caught her, thus looselj" wandring here 

and there, 
And in his wide great mouth away her 

bare 
Crying aloud to shew her sad misfare 
Unto the Knights, and calling oft for 

ayde ; 
Who with the horrour of her haplesse 

care 
Hastily starting up, like men dismayde. 
Ran after fast to reskue the distressed 

mayde. 

XXV. 

The Beast, with their pursuit incited 

more, 
Into the wood was bearing her apace 
For to have spoyled her, when Calidore, 
Who was more light of foote and swift in 

chace. 
Him overtooke in middest of his race ; 
And, fiercely charging him with all his 

might, 
Forst to forgoe his pray there in the 

place, 
And to betake him selfe to fearefull 

flight; 
For he durst not abide with Calidore to 

tight. 

XXVI. 

Who nathelesse, when he the Lady saw 
There left on ground, though in full evill 

plight. 
Yet knowing that her Knight now neare 

did draw, 
Staide not to succour her in that affright, 
But follow'd fast the Monster in his 

flight : 



Through woods and hils he follow'd him 
so fast, 

That he nould let him breath, nor gather 
spright. 

But forst him gape and gaspe, with dread 
aghast, 

As if his lungs and lites were nigh asun- 
der brast. 

XXVII. 

And now by this Sir Calepine (so Wgh't) 
Came to the place where he his Lady found 
In dolorous dismay and deadly plight, 
All in gore bloud there tumbled on the 

ground. 
Having both sides tltrough grypt with 

griesly wound. 
His weapons soone from him he threw 

away. 
And stouping dowue to her in drery 

swound 
Uprear'd her from the ground whereon 

she lay. 
And in his tender armes her forced up to 

stay. 

XXVIII. 

So well he did his busie paines apply, 
That the faint sprite be did revoke agaiue 
To her fraile mansion of mortality : 
Then up he tooke her twixt his armes 

twaine, 
And setting on his steede her did sustaine 
With carefull hands, soft footing her be- 
side ; 
Till to some place of rest they mote attaine, 
Where she in safe assuraunce mote abide. 
Till she recured were of those her 
woundes wide. 

XXIX. 

Now when as Phoebus with his fiery 

waine 
Unto his Inne began to draw apace ; 
Tho wexing weary of that toylesome 

paine, 
In travelling on foote so long a space. 
Not wont on foote with heavy armes to 

trace, 
Downe in a dale forby a rivers syde 
He chaunst to spie a fairs and stately 

place. 
To which he meant his weary steps to 

guyde, 
In hope there for his love some succour 

to provyde. 

XXX. 

But, comming to the rivers side, he 
found 
That hardly passable on foote it was ; 
Therefore there still he stood as in a 
stound. 



468 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Ne wist which way he through the foord 

mote pas: 
Thus whilest he was in this distressed 

case, 
Devising what to doe, he nigh espyde 
An armed Knight approaching to the 

place 
With a faire Lady lincked bj'^ his syde, 
The which themselves prepard thorough 

the foord to ride. 

XXXI. 

Whom Calepine saluting (as became) 
Besought of courtesie, in that his neede, 
For safe conducting of his sickely Dame 
Through that same perillous foord with 

better heede, 
To take him up behinde upon his steed ; 
To whom that other did this taunt re- 

turne: 
' Perdy, thou peasant Knight mightst 

rightly reed 
Me then to be full base and evill borne, 
If I would beare behinde a burden of such 

scorue. 

XXXII. 

* But, as thou hast thy steed forlorne 

with shame, 
So fare on foote till thou another gayne, 
And let thy Lady likewise doe the same, 
Or beare her on thy backe with pleasing 

payne. 
And prove thj'" manhood on the billowes 

vayne.' 
With which rude speach his Lady much 

displeased 
Did him reprove, yet could him not re- 
stray ne. 
And would on her owne Palfrey him 

have eased, 
For pitty of his Dame whom she saw so 

diseased. 

XXXIII. 

Sir Calepine her thanckt ; yet, inly wroth 
Against her Knight, her gentlenesse re- 
fused, 
And carelesly into the river goth. 
As in despight to be so fowle abused 
Of a rude churle, whom often he accused 
Of fowle discourtesie, ivnfit for Knight, 
And, strongly wading through the waves 

unused. 
With speare in th' one hand stayd him 

selfe upright, 
With th' other staide his Lady up with 
steddy might. 

XXXI v. 

And all the while that same discour- 
teous Knight 



Stood on the further bancke beholding 

him; 
At whose calamity, for more despight, 
He laught, and mockt to see him like to 

swim : 
But when as Calepine came to the brim, 
And saw his carriage past that perill well, 
Looking at that same Carle with count'- 

nance grim. 
His heart with vengeaunce inwardly did 

swell. 
And forth at last did breake in speaches 

sharpe and fell : 

XXXV. 

* Unknightly Knight, the blemish of 

that name. 
And blot of all that armes uppon them 

take. 
Which is the badge of honour and of 

fame, 
Loe! I defie thee; and here challenge 

make. 
That thou for ever doe those armes for- 
sake, 
And be for ever held a recreant Knight, 
Unlesse thou dare, for thy deare Ladies 

sake 
And for thine owne defence, on foote 

alight 
To justitie thy fault gainst me in equall 

fight.' 

XXXVI. 

The dastard, that did heare him selfe 
defyde, 

Seem'd not to weigh his threatfuU words 
at all. 

But laught them out, as if his greater 
pryde 

Did scorne the challenge of so base a 
thrall ; 

Or had no courage, or else had no gall. 

So much the more was Calepine offended, 

That him to no revenge he forth could 
call. 

But both his challenge and him selfe con- 
temned, 

Ne cared as a coward so to be condemned. 



But he, nought weighing what he sayd 

or did. 
Turned his steede about another way, 
And with his Lady to the Castle rid, 
AVhere was his won : ne did the other 

stay. 
But after went directly as he may. 
For his sicke charge some harbour there 

to seeke ; 
Where he arriving with the fall of day 



CANTO III.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



469 



Drew to the gate, and there with prayers 

meeke 
And myld entreaty lodging did for her 

beseeke. 

XXXVIII. 

But the rude Porter that no manners 

had 
Did shut the gate against him in his face, 
And entraunce boldly unto him forbad: 
Nathelesse the Knight, now in so needy 

case, 
Gan him entreat even with submission 

base, 
And humbly praid to let them in that 

night ; 
Who to him aunswer'd, that there was no 

place 
Of lodging fit for any errant Knight, 
Unlesse that with his Lord he formerly did 

fight. 

XXXIX. 

' Full loth am I,' (quoth he) ' as now at 

earst 
When day is spent, and rest us needeth 

most, 
And that this Lady, both whose sides are 

pearst 
With wounds, is ready to forgo the ghost ; 
Ne would I gladly combate with mine 

host. 
That should to me such curtesie afford, 
Unlesse that I were thereunto enforst: 
But yet aread to me, how bight thy Lord, 
That doth thus strongly ward the Castle 

of the Ford ? ' 



'His name,' (quoth he), 'if that thou 

list to learne, 
Is bight Sir Turpiue, one of mickle might 
And manhood rare, but terrible and 

stearne 
In all assaies to every errant Knight, 
Because of one that wrought him fowle 

despight.' 
' 111 seemes,' (sayd he) ' if he so valiaunt be. 
That he should be so sterne to stranger 

wight; 
For seldome yet did living creature see 
That curtesie and manhood ever disagree. 



'But go thy waies to him, and fro me 

say, 
That here is at his gate an errant Knight, 
That house-rome craves ; yet would be 

loth t' assay 
The proofe of battell now in doubtfuU 

night, 
Or curtesie with rudeuesse to requite : 



Yet, if he needes will fight, crave leave 

till morne. 
And tell with all the lamentable plight 
In which this Lady languisheth forlorne, 
That pitty craves, as he of woman was 

y borne.' 

XLII. 

The groome went streight way in, and 

to his Lord 
Declar'd the message which that Knight 

did move ; 
Who, sitting with his Lady then at bord, 
Not onely did not his demaund approve, 
But both himselfe revil'd and eke his love ; 
Albe his Lady, that Blandina bight, 
Him of ungentle usage did reprove, 
And earnestly entreated, that they might 
Finde favour to be lodged there for that 

same night. 



Yet would he not perswaded be for 
ought, 
Ne from his currish will a whit reclame. 
Which answer when the groome returning 

brought 
To Calepine, his heart did inly flame 
With wrathfull fury for so foule a shame, 
That he could not tliereof avenged bee ; 
But most for pitty of his dearest Dame, 
Whom now in deadly daunger he did see, 
Yet had no meanes to comfort, nor pro- 
cure her glee. 



But all in vaine ; for-why no remedy 
He saw the present mischiefe to redresse. 
But th' utmost end perforce for to aby. 
Which that nights fortune would for him 

addresse. 
So downe he tooke his Lady in distresse. 
And layd her iniderneath a bush to sleepe, 
Cover'd with cold, and wrapt in wretched- 

nesse ; 
Whiles he him selfe all night did nought 

but weepe, 
And wary watch about her for her safe- 

gard keepe. 



The morrow next, so soone as joyous day 
Did shew it selfe in sunny beames bedight, 
Serena full of dolorous dismay, 
Twixt darkenesse dread and hope of living 

light, 
Uprear'd her head to see that ehearefull 

sight. 
Then Calepine, however inly wroth. 
And greedy to avenge that vile despight, 
Yet for the feeble Ladies sake, full loth 



470 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



To make there lenger stay, forth on his 
journey goth. 



He goth on foote all armed by her side, 
Upstaying still her selfe uppon her steede, 
Being unhable else alone to ride, 
So sore her sides, so much her wounds 

did bleede ; 
Till that at length, in liis extreamest 

neede. 
He chaunst far off an armed Knight to spy 
Pursuing him apace with greedy speede ; 
Whom well he wist to be some enemy, 
That meant to make advantage of his 

misery. 

XLVII. 

Wherefore he stayd, till that he nearer 

drew, 
To weet what issue would thereof betyde : 
Tho, whenas he approched nigh in vew, 
By certaine signes he plainly him descryde 
To be the man that with such scornefuU 

pryde 
Had him abusde and shamed yesterday ; 
Therefore, misdoubting least he should 

misguyde 
His former malice to some new assay. 
He cast to keepe him selfe so safely as he 

may. 

XLVIII. 

By this the other came in place likewise, 
And couching close his speare and all his 

powre. 
As bent to some malicious enterprise, 
He bad him stand t' abide the bitter 

stoure 
Of his sore vengeaunce, or to make avoure 
Of the lewd words and deedes which he 

had done : 
With that ran at him, as he would de- 

voure 
His life attonce ; who nought could do but 

shun 
The perill of his pride, or else be over-run. 



XLIX. 

Yet he him still pursew'd from place to 

place. 
With full intent him cruelly to kill, 
And like a wilde goate round about did 

chace 
Flying the fury of his bloudy will : 
But his best succour and refuge was still 
Behind his Ladies back ; who to him 

cryde, 
And called oft with prayers loud and 

shrill, 
As ever he to Lady was affyde. 
To spare her Knight, and rest with reason 

pacifyde : 



But he the more thereby enraged was. 
And with more eager feluesse him pur- 
sew'd ; 
So that at length, after long weary chace, 
Having by chaunce a close advantage 

vew'd. 
He over raught him, having longeschew'd 
His violence in vaine ; and with his spere 
Strooke through his shoulder, that the 

blood ensew'd 
In great aboundance, as a well it were 
That forth out of an hill fresh gushing 
did appere. 

LI. 

Yet ceast he not for all that cruell 

wound, 
But chaste him still for all his Ladies 

cry; 
Not satisfyde till on the fatall ground 
He saw his life powrd forth dispiteously ; 
The which was certes in great jeopardy, 
Had not a wondrous chaunce his reskue 

wrought. 
And saved from his cruell villany. 
Such chaunces oft exceed all humaine 

thought ! 
That in another Canto shall to end be 

brought. 



CANTO IV. 

Calepine by a salvage man 
From Turpine reskewed is ; 

And, whylest an Infant from a Beare 
He saves, his love doth misse. 



Like as a ship with dreadfull storme 
long tost, 
Having spent all her mastes and her 

groundhold, 
Now farre from harbour likely to be lost, 
At last some fisher-barke doth neare behold. 



That giveth comfort to her courage 

cold : 
Such was the state of this most courteous 

knight 
Being oppressed by that faytour bold, 
That he remayned in most perilous plight, 
And his sad Ladie left in pitifull affright: 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



471 



Till that, by fortune passing all fore- 
sight, 
A salvage man, which in those woods did 

wonne, 
Drawne with that Ladies loud and piteous 

shright, 
Toward the same incessantly did ronue 
To understand what there was to be 

donue: 
There he this most discourteous craven 

found, 
As fiercely yet as when he first begonne. 
Chasing the gentle Calepine around, 
Ne sparing him the more for all his griev- 
ous wound. 

III. 

The salvage man, that never till this 

houre 
Did taste of pittie, neither geutlesse knew, 
Seeing his sharpe assault and cruell stoure, 
Was much emmoved at his perils vew. 
That even his ruder hart began to rew, 
And feele compassion of his evill plight, 
Against his foe that did him so pursew; 
From whom he meant to free him, if he 

might, 
And him avenge of that so villenous de- 

spight. 

IV. 

Yet armes or weapon had he none to 

fight, 
Ne knew the use of warlike instruments. 
Save such as sudden rage him lent to 

smite ; 
But naked, without ueedfull vestiments 
To clad his corpse with meete habili- 
ments. 
He cared not for dint of sword nor speere. 
No more then for the stroke of strawes 

or bents : 
For from his mothers wombe, which him 

did beare. 
He was invulnerable made by Magicke 

leare. 

v. 
He stayed not t' advize which way were 

best 
His foe t' assayle, or how himself e to gard, 
But with fierce fury and with force infest 
Upon him ran; wiio being well prepard 
His first assault full warily did ward, 
And with the push of his sharp-pointed 

speare 
Full on the breast him strooke, so strong 

and hard 
That forst him backe recoyle and reele 

areare, 
Yet in his bodie made no wound nor bloud 

appeare. 



With that the wyld man more enraged 

grew, 
Like to a Tygre that hath mist his pray, 
And with mad moode againe upon him 

flew. 
Regarding neither speare that mote him 

slay, 
Nor his fierce steed that mote him much 

dismay : 
The salvage nation doth all dread despize, 
Tho on his shield he griple hold did lay, 
And held the same so hard, that by no 

wize 
He could him force to loose, or leave his 

enterprize. 

VII. 

Long did he wrest and wring it to and 

fro, 
And every way did trj^, but all in vaine ; 
For he would not his greedie grype forgoe, 
But hayld and puld with all his might and 

maine. 
That from his steed him nigh he drew 

againe : 
Who having now no use of his long speare 
So nigh at hand, nor force his shield to 

straine, 
Both speare and shield, as things that 

needlesse were, 
He quite forsooke, and fled hiniselfe away 

for feare. 

VIII. 

But after him the wyld man ran apace. 
And him pursewed with importune speed, 
(For he was swift as any Bucke in chace) 
And, had he not in his extreamest need 
Bene helped through the swiftnesse of his 

steed, 
He had him overtaken in his flight. 
Who, ever as he saw him nigh succeed, 
Gan cry aloud with horrible aifright, 
And shrieked out, a thing uncomely for a 

knight. 

IX. 

But, when the Salvage saw his labour 
vaine 
In following of him that fled so fast, 
He wearie woxe, and backe return'd 

againe 
W^ith speede unto the place, whereas he 

last 
Had left that couple nere their utmost 

cast : 
There he that knight full sorely bleeding 

found, 
And eke the Ladie f carefully aghast. 
Both for the perill of the present stound. 
And also for the sharpnesse of her ran- 
kling wound : 



472 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



For though she were right glad so rid 

to bee 
From that vile lozell which her late 

offended ; 
Yet now no lesse encombrance she did see, 
And perill, by this salvage man pretended, 
Gainst whom she saw no meanes to be 

defended, 
By reason that her knight was wounded 

sore: 
Therefore her selfe she wholy recom- 
mended 
To Gods sole grace, whom she did oft 

implore 
To send her succour, being of all hope for- 

lore. 

XI. 

But the wyld man, contrarie to her 

feare, 
Came to her creepinglike a fawning hound, 
And by rude tokens made to her appeare 
His deepe compassion of her dolefuU 

stound. 
Kissing his hands, and crouching to the 

ground ; 
For other language had he none, nor 

speach. 
But a soft murmure and confused sound 
Of senselesse words, which nature did 

him teach 
T' expresse his passions, which his reason 

did em peach. 



And, comming likewise to the wounded 

knight. 
When he beheld the streames of purple 

blood 
Yet flowing fresh, as moved with the sight, 
He made great mone after his salvage 

mood ; 
And, running streight into the thickest 

wood, 
A certaine herbe from thence unto him 

brought. 
Whose vertue he by use well understood ; 
The juyce whereof into his wound he 

wrought. 
And stopt the bleeding straight, ere he it 

staunched thought. 



Then taking up that Recreants shield 

and speare, 
Which earst he left, he signes unto them 

made 
With him to wend unto his wonning neare ; 
To which he easily did them perswade. 
Farre in the forrest, by a hollow glade 



Covered with mossie shrubs, which spred- 

ding brode 
Did underneath them make a gloomy 

shade, 
Where foot of living creature never trode, 
Ne scarse wyld beasts durst come, there 

was this wights abode. 



Thether he brought these unacquainted 

guests, 
To whom faire semblance, as he could, 

he shewed 
By signes, by lookes, and all his other 

gests ; 
But the bare ground with hoarie mosse 

bestrowed 
Must be their bed ; their pillow was un- 

sowed : 
And the frutes of the forrest was their 

feast ; 
For their bad Stuard neither plough'd 

nor sowed, 
Ne fed on flesh, ne ever of wyld beast 
Did taste the blond, obaying natures first 

beheast. 

XV. 

Yet, howsoever base and meane it were, 
They tooke it well, and thanked God for 

all. 
Which had them freed from that deadly 

feare. 
And sav'd from being to that caytive 

thrall. 
Here they of force (as fortune now did 

fall)' 
Compelled were themselves awhile to 

rest. 
Glad of that easement, though it were but 

small; 
That having there their wounds awhile 

red rest. 
They mote the abler be to passe unto the 

rest. 

XVI. 

During which time that wyld man did 

apply 
His best endevour and his daily paine 
In seeking all the woods both farre and I 

nye 
For herbes to dresse their wounds; still 

seeming faine 
When ought he did, that did their lyking 

gaine. 
So as ere long he had that knightes wound 
Recured well, and made him whole againe 
But that same Ladies hurt no herbe he 

found 
Which could redresse, for it was inwardly 

Vmsound, 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



473 



Now when as Calepiue was woxen 

strong, 
Upon a day he cast abrode to wend, 
To take the ayre and heare the thrushes 

song, 
Unarni'd, as fearing neither foe nor frend, 
And without sword his person to defend: 
There him befell, unlooked for before, 
Au hard adventure with uuhappie end, 
A cruell Beare, the which an infant bore 
Betwixt his bloodie jawes, besprinckled 

all with gore. 



The litle babe did loudly scrike and 

squall. 
And all the woods with piteous plaints did 

fill. 
As if his cry did nieane for helpe to call 
To Calepine, whose eares those shrieches 

shrill, 
Percing his hart, with pities point did 

thrill ; 
That after him he ran with zealous haste 
To rescue th' infant, ere he did him kill : 
Whom though he saw now somewhat 

overpast. 
Yet by the cry he follow 'd, and pursewed 

fast. 

XIX. 

Well then him chaunst his heavy armes 

to want, 
Whose burden mote empeach his needfull 

speed, 
And hinder him from libertie to pant ; 
For having long time, as his daily weed. 
Them wont to weare, and wend on foot 

for need. 
Now wanting them he felt hi mselfe so light. 
That like an Hauke, which feeling her 

selfe freed 
From bels and jesses which did let her 

flight. 
Him seem'd his feet did fly and in their 

speed delight. 



So well he sped him, that the wearie 
Beare 
Ere long he overtooke and forst to stay ; 
And withont weapon him assayling neare, 
Compeld him soone the spoyle adowne 

to lay. 
Wherewith the beast enrag'd to loose his 

pray 
Upon him turned, and, with greedie force 
And furie to be crossed in his way, 
Gaping full wyde, did thiuke without re- 
morse 



To be aveng'd on him and to devoure his 
corse. 

XXI. 

But the bold knight no whit thereat dis- 

mayd, 
But catching up in hand a ragged stone 
W^hich lay thereby (so fortune him did 

ayde) 
Upon him ran, and thrust it all attone 
Into his gaping throte, that made him 

grone 
And gaspe for breath, that he nigh choked 

was, 
Being unable to digest that bone ; 
Ne could it upward come, nor downward 

passe. 
Ne could he brooke the coldnesse of the 

stony masse. 

XXII. 

Whom when as he thus combred did be- 
hold, 
Stryving in vaine that nigh his bowels 

brast. 
He with him closd, and, laying mightie 

hold 
Upon his throte, did gripe his gorge so fast. 
That wanting breath him downe to ground 

he cast ; 
And, then oppressing him with urgent 

paine. 
Ere long enforst to breath his utmost 

blast. 
Gnashing his cruell teeth at him in vaine, 
And threatning his sharpe clawes, now 

wanting powre to traine. 

XXIII. 

Then tooke he up betwixt his armes 

twaine 
The litle babe, sweet relickes of his pray ; 
Whom pitying to heare so sore complaine. 
From his soft eyes the teares he wypt 

away. 
And from his face the filth that did it raj'' ; 
And every litle limbe he searcht around. 
And every part that under sweath-bands 

lay, 
Least that the beasts sharpe teeth had any 

wound 
Made in his tender flesh ; but whole them 

all he found. 

XXIV. 

So, having all his bands againe uptyde, 
He with him thought backe to returne 

againe : 
But when he lookt about on every syde, 
To weet which way were best to enter- 

taine 



474 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



To bring him to the place where he would 

faine, 
He could no path nor tract of foot descry, 
Ne by inquirie learne, nor ghesse by ayme ; 
For nought but woods and forrests farre 

and nye, 
That all about did close the compasse of 

his eye. 

XXV. 

Much was he then encombred, ne could 

tell 
Which way to take: now West he went 

awhile, 
Then North, then neither, but as fortune 

fell: 
So up and downe he wandred many a mile 
With weary travell and uncertaine toile, 
Yet nought the nearer to his journeys end ; 
And evermore his lovely litle spoile 
Crying for food did greatly him offend : 
So allthat day in wandring vaiuely he did 

spend. 

XXVI. 

At last, about the setting of the Sunue, 
Him selfe out of the forest he did wynd, 
And by good fortune the plaine champion 

woune : 
Where, looking all about where he mote 

fynd 
Some place of succour to content his mynd, 
At length he heard under the forrests syde 
A voice, that seemed of some woman kyud. 
Which to her selfe lamenting loudly cryde. 
And oft complayn'd of fate, and fortune 

oft defyde. 

XXVII. 

To whom approching, when as she per- 
ceived 
A stranger wight in place, her plaint she 

stayd, 
As if she doubted to have bene deceived. 
Or loth to let her sorrowes be bewrayd : 
Whom when as Calepine saw so dismayd, 
He to her drew, and with faire blandish- 
ment 
Her chearing up, thus gently to her sayd : 
' Wliat be you, wofull Dame, which thus 

lament, 
And for what cause, declare ; so mote ye 
not repent.' 

XXVIII. 

To whom she thus : ' What need me, Sir, 
to tell 
That which your selfe have earst ared so 

right ? 
A wofull dame ye have me termed well ; 
So much more wofull, as my wofull plight 
Cannot redressed be by living wight!' 



' Nathlesse,' (quoth he) ' if need doe not 
you bynd. 

Doe it disclose to ease your grieved 
spright : 

Oftimes it haps that sorrowes of the mynd 

Find remedie unsought, which seeking can- 
not fynd.' 

XXIX. 

Then thus began the lamentable Dame : 
' Sith then ye needs will know the griefe 

I lioord, 
I am th' unfortunate Matilde by name, 
The wife of bold Sir Bruin, who is L(-rd 
Of all this land, late conquer'd by his 

sword 
From a great Gyant, called Cormoraunt, 
AVhom he did overthrow by yonder foord ; 
And in three battailes did so deadly daunt, 
That he dare not returne for all his daily 

vaunt. 

XXX. 

' So is my Lord now seiz'd of all the land, 
As in his fee, with peaceable estate. 
And quietly doth hold it in his hand, 
Ne any dares with him for it debate: 
And to these liappie fortunes cruell fate 
Hath joyn'd one evill, which doth over- 
throw 
All these our joyes, and all our blisse 

abate ; 
And like in time to further ill to grow. 
And all this land with endlesse losse to 
overflow. 

XXXI. 

' For th' heavens, envying our pros- 
peritie, 
Have not vouchsaft to graunt uuto us 

twaine 
The gladfull blessing of posteritie. 
Which we might see after our selves re- 

maine 
In th' heritage of our unhappie paine: 
So that for want of heires it to defend. 
All is in time like to returne againe 
To that foule feend, who dayly doth at- 
tend 
To leape into the same after our lives end. 

XXXII. 

'But most my Lord is grieved herewith- 
all. 

And makes exceeding mone, when he does 
thinke 

That all this land unto his foe shall fall, 

For which he long in vaine did sweate and 
swinke. 

That now the same he greatly doth for- 
thinke. 

Yet was it sayd, there should to him a 
Sonne 



CANTO IV.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



475 



Be gotten, not begotten; which should 

drinke 
And dry up all the water which doth ronne 
In the next brooke, by whom that feend 

shold be fordonne. 



' Well hop't he then, when this was 

propheside, 
That from his sides some noble chyld 

should rize, 
The which through fame should farre be 

magnifide, 
And this proud gyant should with brave 

emprize 
Quite overthrow ; who now ginnes to de- 

spize 
The good Sir Bruin growing farre in yeares, 
Who thinkes from me his sorrow all doth 

rize. 
Lo ! this my cause of griefe to you ap- 

peares ; 
For which I thus doe mourne, and poure 

forth ceaselesse teares.' 

XXXIV. 

Which when he heard, he inly touched 
was 

With tender ruth for her unworthy griefe ; 

And, when he had devized of her case. 

He gan in mind conceive a lit reliefe 

For all her paine, if please her make the 
priefe ; 

And, having cheared her, thus said: 
' Faire Dame, 

In evils counsell is the comfort chiefe ; 

Which though I be not wise enough to 
frame, 

Yet, as I well it meane, vouchsafe it with- 
out blame. 



' If that the cause of this your languish- 
men t 
Be lacke of children to supply your place, 
Lo! how good fortune doth to you present 
This litle babe, of sweete and lovely face, 
And spotlesse spirit in which ye may en- 

chace 
Whatever formes ye list thereto apply, 
Being now soft and fit them to embrace ; 
Whether ye list him traine in chevalry, 
Or noursle up in lore of learn 'd Philos- 
ophy. 

XXXVI. 

* And, certes, it hath oftentimes bene 

seene, 
That of the like, whose linage was un- 

knowne, 
More brave and noble knights have raysed 

beene 



(As their victorious deedes have often 
showen, 

Being with fame through many Nations 
blowen,) 

Then those which have bene dandled in 
the lap: 

Therefore some thought that those brave 
imps were sowen 

Here by the Gods, and fed with heavenly 
sap. 

That made them grow so hight t' all hon- 
orable hap.' 



The Ladie, hearkning to his sensefull 

speach. 
Found nothing that he said unmeet nor 

geason , 
Having oft seene it tryde as he did teach : 
Therefore inclyning to his goodly reason. 
Agreeing well both with the place and 

season. 
She gladly did of that same babe accept. 
As of her owne by liverey and seisin ; 
And, having over it a litle wept, 
She bore it thence, and ever as her owne 

it kept. 

XXXVIII. 

Right glad was Calepine to be so rid 
Of his young charge whereof he skilled 

nought, 
Ne she lesse glad ; for she so wisely did, 
And with her husband under hand so 

wrought, 
That, when that infant unto him she 

brought, 
She made him think it surely was his 

owne; 
And it in goodly thewes so well up- 
brought. 
That it became a famous knight well 

knowne, 
And did right noble deedes; the which 

elswhere are showne. 



But Calepine, now being left alone 
Under the greenewoods side in sorie 

plight, 
Withouten armes or steede to ride upon. 
Or house to hide his head from heavens 

spight, 
Albe that Dame, by all the meanes she 

might, 
Him oft desired home with her to wend, 
And offred him, his courtesie to requite, 
Both horse and armes and what so else to 

lend. 
Yet he them all refusd, though thankt 

her as a f rend ; 



476 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



XL, 

And, for exceeding grief e which inly 

grew 
That he his love so lucklesse now had 

lost, 
On the cold ground maugre himselfe he 

threw 
For fell despight to be so sorely crost ; 



And there all night himselfe in anguish 

tost, 
Vowing that never he in bed againe 
His limbes would rest, ne lig in ease em- 

bost, 
Till that his Ladies sight he mote attaine, 
Or understand that she in safetie did re- 

maine. 



CANTO V. 

The salvage serves Serena well, 
Till she Prince Arthure fynd ; 

Who her, together with his Squyre, 
With th' Hermit leaves behynd. 



O WHAT an easie thing is to descry 
The gentle bloud, how ever it be wrapt 
In sad misfortunes foule deformity 
And wretched sorrowes, which have often 

hapt! 
For howsoever it may grow mis-shapt. 
Like this wyld man being undisciplynd. 
That to all vertue it may seeme unapt, 
Yet will it shew some sparkes of gentle 

mynd, 
And at the last breake forth in his owne 

proper kynd. 



That plainely may in this wyld man be 

red. 
Who, though he were still in this desert 

wood, 
Mongst salvage beasts both rudely borne 

and bred, 
Ne ever saw faire guize, ne learned good. 
Yet shewd some token of his gentle blood 
By gentle usage of that wretched Dame : 
For certes he was borne of noble blood, 
How ever by hard hap he hether came, 
As ye may know when time shall be to 

tell the same. 



Who, when as now long time he lacked 

had 
The good Sir Calepine, that farre was 

stray d. 
Did wexe exceeding sorrowfull and sad, 
As he of some misfortune were afrayd; 
And, leaving there this Ladie all dismayd, 
AVent forth streightway into the forj-est 

wyde 
Toseeke if he perchance asleep were layd, 
Or what so else were unto him betyde : 
He sought him farre and neare, yet him 

no where he spyde. 



Tho, backe returning to that sorie 
Dame, 
He shewed semblant of exceeding mone 
By speaking signes, as he them best could 

frame. 
Now wringing both his wretched hands 

in one. 
Now beating his hard head upon a stone, 
That ruth it was to see him so lament : 
By which she well perceiving what was 

done, 
Gan teare her hayre, and all her gar- 
ments rent. 
And beat her breast, and piteously her 
selfe torment. 



Upon the ground her selfe she fiercely 

threw, 
Regardlesse of her wounds yet bleeding 

rife. 
That with their bloud did all the flore 

imbrew. 
As if her breast, new launcht with mur- 

drous knife. 
Would streight dislodge the wretched 

wearie life. 
There she long groveling and deepe gron- 

ing lay. 
As if her vitall powers were at strife 
With stronger death, and feared their 

decay : 
Such were this Ladies pangs and dolo- 
rous assay. 

VI. 

Whom when the Salvage saw so sore 

distrest. 
He reared her up from the bloudie 

ground. 
And sought by all the meanes that he 

could best 
Her to recure out of that stony swound. 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



477 



And staunch the bleeding of her dreary 
wound : 

Yet nould she be recomforted for nought, 

Nor cease her sorrow and impatient 
stound, 

But day and night did vexe her carefull 
thought, 

And ever more and more her owne afflic- 
tion wrought. 

VII. 

At length, when as no hope of his re- 

tourne 
She saw now left, she cast to leave the 

place. 
And wend abrode, though feeble and for- 

lorne, 
To seeke some comfort in that sorie 

case. 
His steede, now strong through rest so 

long a space, 
Well as she could she got, and did be- 

dight ; 
And being thereon mounted forth did pace 
Withouten guide her to conduct aright. 
Or gard her to defend from bold oppress- 
ors might. 

VIII. 

Whom when her Host saw readie to de- 
part. 
He would not suffer her alone to fare, 
But gan himselfe addresse to take her 

part. 
Those warlike armes which Calepine 

whyleare 
Had left behind he gan ef tsoones prepare. 
And put them all about himselfe unfit. 
His shield, his helmet, and his curats 

bare ; 
But without sword upon his thigh to sit : 
Sir Calepine himselfe away had hidden it. 



So forth they traveld, an uneven payre 
That mote to all men seeme an uncouth 

sight ; 
A salvage man matcht with a Ladie fayre, 
That rather seem'd the conquest of his 

might. 
Gotten by spoyle then purchaced aright : 
But he did her attend most carefully. 
And faithfully did serve both day and 

night 
Withouten thought of shame or villeny, 
Ne ever shewed signe of foule disloyalty. 



Upon a day, as on their way they went. 
It chaunst some furniture al)out her steed 
To be disordred by some accident. 



Which to redresse she did th' assistance 

need 
Of this her groome ; which he by signes 

did reede. 
And streight his combrous armes aside 

did lay 
Upon the ground withouten doubt or 

dreed; 
And in his homely wize began to assay 
T' amend what was amisse, and put in 

right aray. 

XI. 

Bout which whilest he was busied thus 

hard, 
Lo! where a knight, together with his 

squire, 
All arm'd to point came ryding thether- 

ward ; 
Which seemed, by their portance and 

attire. 
To be two errant knights, that did inquire 
After adventures, where they mote them 

get. 
Those were to weet (if that ye it require) 
Prince Arthur and young Timias, which 

met 
By straunge occasion that here needs 

forth be set. 

XII. 

After that Timias had againe recured 
The favour of Belphebe (as ye heard) 
And of her grace did stand againe as- 
sured. 
To happie blisse he was full high up- 

rear'd, 
Nether of envy nor of chaunge afeard : 
Though many foes did him maligne there- 
fore. 
And with unjust detraction him did 

beard. 
Yet he himselfe so well and wn'sely bore. 
That in her soveraine lyking he dwelt 
evermore. 

XIII. 

But of them all which did his ruine 

seeke, 
Three mightie enemies did him most de- 

sjiight. 
Three mightie ones, and cruell minded 

eeke, 
That him not onely sought by open might 
To overthrow, but to supplant by slight: 
The first of them by name was cald De- 

s pet to, 
Exceeding all the rest in powre and bight ; 
The second, not so strong but wise, De- 

cetto ; 
The third, nor strong nor wise, but spight- 

fullest, Defetto. 



478 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Oftimes their sundry powres they did 
employ, 

And several deceipts, but all in vaine ; 

For neither they by force could him de- 
stroy, 

Ne ^et entrap in treasons subtill traine. 

Therefore, conspiring all together plaine, 

They did their counsels now in one com- 
pound : 

AVhere singled forces faile, conjoynd may 
gaine. 

The Blatant Beast the fittest meanes they 
found 

To worke his utter shame, and throughly 
him confound. 



Upon a day, as they the time did waite, 
When he did raunge the wood for salvage 

game, 
They sent that Blatant Beast to be a 

baite 
To draw him from his deare beloved dame 
Unwares into the daunger of defame ; 
For well they wist that Squire to be so 

bold. 
That no one beast in forrest, wylde or 

tame, 
Met him in chase but he it challenge 

would. 
And plucke the pray oftimes out of their 

greedy hould. 



The hardy boy, as they devised had. 
Seeing the ugly Monster passing by, 
Upon him set, of perill nought adrad, 
Ne skilful! of the uncouth jeopardy ; 
And charged him so fierce and furiously, 
That his great force unable to endure. 
He forced was to turne from him and fly : 
Yet ere he tied he with his tooth impure 
Him heedlesse bit, the whiles he was 
thereof secure. 



Securely he did after him pursew. 
Thinking by speed to overtake his flight; 
Who through thicke woods and brakes 

and briers him drew. 
To weax'y him the more and waste his 

spight. 
So that he now has almost spent his 

spright. 
Till that at length unto a woody glade 
He came, whose covert stopt his further 

sight : 
There his three foes shrowded in guilef ull 

shade 



Out of their ambush broke, and gan him 
to invade. 

XVIII. 

Sharpely they all attonce did him as- 

saile, 
Burning with inward rancour and de- 

spiglit, 
And heaped strokes did round about him 

haile 
With so huge force, that seemed nothing 

might 
Beare on their blowes from percing 

thorough quite : 
Yet he them all so warily did ward, 
That none of them in his soft flesh did 

bite; 
And all the while his backe for best safe- 

gard 
He lent against a tree, that backeward 

onset bard. 

XIX. 

Like a wylde Bull, that, being at a bay. 
Is bayted of a mastiffe and a hound 
And a curre-dog, that doe him sharpe 

assay 
On every side, and beat about him round ; 
But most that curre, barking with bitter 

sownd. 
And creeping still behinde, doth him in- 

comber, 
That in his chauffe he digs the trampled 

ground, 
And threats his horns, and bellowes like 

the thonder : 
So did that Squire his foes disperse and 

drive asonder. 



Him well behoved so ; for his three foes 
Sought to encompasse him on every side. 
And dangerously did round about enclose : 
But most of all Defetto him annoyde, 
Creeping behinde him still to have de- 

stroyde ; 
So did Decetto eke him circumvent ; 
But stout Despetto in his greater pryde 
Did front him, face to face against him 

bent: 
Yet he them all withstood, and often 

made relent. 

XXI. 

Till that at length, nigh tyrd with for- 
mer chace. 

And weary now with carefull keeping 
ward. 

He gan to shrinke and somewhat to give 
place, 

Full like ere long to have escaped hard ; 

When as unwares he in the forrest heard 



CANTO V.I 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



479 



A trampling steede, that with his neigh- 
ing fast 

Did warne his rider be uppon his gard ; 

With noise whereof the Squire, now nigh 
aghast, 

Revived was, and sad dispaire away did 
cast. 

XXII. 

Ef tsooues he spide a Knight approching 
nye; 
Who, seeing one in so great daunger set 
Mongst many foes, him selfe did faster 

hye 
To reskue him, and his weake part abet. 
For pitty so to see him overset : 
Whom soone as his three enemies did vew, 
They fled, and last into the wood did get. 
Him booted not to thinke them to pursew. 
The covert was so thicke that did no pas- 
sage shew. 

XXIII. 

Then turning to that swaine him well 

he knew 
To be his Timias, his owne true Squire ; 
Whereof exceeding glad he to him drew, 
And, him embracing twixt his arnies 

entire. 
Him thus bespake : ' My liefe, my lifes 

desire. 
Why have ye me alone thus long yleft ? 
Tell me what worlds despight, or heavens 

yre, 
Hath you thus long away from me bereft ? 
Where have ye all this while bin wan- 

dring, where bene weft ? ' 

XXIV. 

With that he sighed deepe for inward 

tyne : 
To whom the Squire nought aunswered 

againe, 
But, shedding few soft teares from tender 

eyne, 
His dear affect with silence did restraine. 
And shut up all his plaint in privy paine. 
There they awhile some gracious speaches 

spent. 
As to them seemed fit time to entertaine ; 
After all which up to their steedes they 

went, 
And forth together rode, a comely cou- 

plement. 

XXV. 

So now they be arrived both in sight 
Of this wyld man, whom they full busie 

found 
About the sad Serena things to dight, 
With those brave armours lying on the 

ground, 



That seem'd the spoile of some right well 

renownd : 
Which when that Squire beheld, he to 

them stept 
Thinking to take them from that hylding 

hound ; 
But he it seeing lightly to him lept. 
And sternely with strong hand it from his 

handling kept. 



Gnashing his grinded teeth with griesly 

looke, 
And sparkling fire out of his furious eyne, 
Him with his fist unwares on th' head he 

strooke. 
That made him downe unto the earth en- 

cline ; 
Whence soone upstarting much he gan 

repine, 
And laying hand upon his wrathfull blade 
Thought therewithall forthwith him to 

have slaine ; 
Who it perceiving hand upon him layd. 
And greedily him griping his avengement 

stayd. 

XXVII. 

With that aloude the faire Serena cryde 
Unto the Knight, them to dispart in 

twaine ; 
Who to them stepping did them soone 

divide, 
And did from further violence restraine, 
Albe the wyld-man hardly would refraine. 
Then gan the Prince of her for to demand 
What and from whence she was, and by 

what traiue 
She fell into that salvage villaines hand ? 
And whether free with him she now were, 

or in band ? 



To whom she thus: 'I am, as now ye 

see, 
The wretchedst Dame that lives this day 

on ground ; 
Who both in minde, the which most 

grieveth me, 
And body have receiv'd a mortal! wound, 
That hath me driven to this drery stound. 
I was erewhile the love of Calepine ; 
Who whether he alive be to be found. 
Or by some deadly chaunce be done to 

pine 
Since I him lately lost, uneath is to define. 



' In salvage forrest I him lost of late, 
Where I had surely long ere this bene 
dead, 



48o 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Or else remained in most wretched state, 
Had not tliis wylde man in that wo full 

stead 
Kept and delivered me from deadly 

dread, 
In such a salvage wight, of brutish kynd, 
Amongst wilde beastes in desert forrests 

bred, 
It is most straunge and wonderfull to 

fynd 
So milde humanity and perfect gentle 

mynd. 

XXX. 

' Let me therefore this favour for him 

finde. 
That ye will not your wrath upon him 

wreake, 
Sith he cannot expresse his simple miude, 
Ne yours conceive, ne but by tokens 

speake : 
Small praise to prove your powre on 

wight so weake.' 
With such faire words she did their heat 

ass wage, 
And the strong course of their displeasure 

breake, 
That they to pitty turnd their former 

rage, 
And each sought to supply the office of 

her page. 

XXXI. 

So having all things well about her 

dight, 
She on her way cast forward to proceede. 
And they her forth conducted, where they 

might 
Finde harbour fit to comfort her great 

neede ; 
For now her wounds corruption gan to 

breed : 
And eke this Squire, who likewise 

wounded was 
Of that same Monster late, for lacke of 

heed 
Now gan to faint, and further could not 

pas 
Through feeblenesse, which all his limbes 

oppressed has. 

XXXII. 

So forth they rode together all in troupe 
To seeke some place the which mote yeeld 

some ease 
To these sicke twaine, that now began to 

droupe : 
And all the way the Prince sought to ap- 
pease 
The bitter anguish of their sharpe disease 
By all the courteous meanes he could in- 
vent ; 



Somewhile with merry purpose, fit to 

please. 
And otherwhile with good encouragement 
To make them to endure the pains did 

them torment. 



Mongst which Serena did to him relate 
The foule discourt'sies and uukuightly 

parts, 
Which Turpine had unto her shewed late, 
Without compassion of her cruell smarts : 
Although Blandina did with all her arts 
Him otherwise perswade all that she 

might. 
Yet he of malice, without her desarts, 
Not onely her excluded late at night. 
But also trayterously did wound her 

weary Knight. 



Wherewith the Prince sore moved there 

avoud 
That soone as he returned backe againe. 
He would avenge th' abuses of that proud 
-And shameful! Knight of whom she did 

complaine. 
This wize did they each other entertaine 
To passe the tedious travell of the way, 
Till towards night they came unto a plaine. 
By which a little Hermitage there lay. 
Far from all neighbourhood the which 

annoy it may. 

XXXV. 

And nigh thereto a little Chappell 
stoode, 
Which being all with Yvy overspred 
Deckt all the roofe, and, shadowing the 

roode, 
Seem'd like a grove faire braunched over- 
bed: 
Therein the Hermite, which his life here 

led 
In streight observaunce of religious vow, 
Was wont his howres and holy things to 

bed; 
And therein he likewise was praying now, 
Whenas these Knights arriv'd, they wist 
not where nor how. 

XXXVI. 

They stayd not there, but streightway 

in did pas : 
Whom when the Hermite present saw in 

place, 
Fi-om his devotion streight he troubled 1 

was; 
Which breaking off he toward them did I 

pace 



CANTO v.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



481 



With stayed steps and grave beseeming 

grace : 
For well it seeni'd that whilome he had 

heene 
Some goodly person, and of gentle race, 
That conld his good to all ; and well did 

weene 
How each to entertaine with curt'sie well 

beseene. 

XXXVII. 

And soothly it was sayd by common 

fame, 
So long as age enabled him thereto, 
That he had bene a man of mickle name, 
Renowmed much in armes and derring doe ; 
But being aged now, and weary to 
Of warres delight and worlds contentious 

toyle, 
The name of knighthood he did disavow ; 
And, hanging up his armes and warlike 

spoyle, 
From all this worlds incombraunce did 

himself e assoyle. 

XXXVIII. 

He thence them led into his Hermitage, 
Letting their steedes to graze upon the 

greene. 
Small was his house, and like a little cage. 
For his owne turne, yet inly neate and 

clene, 
Deckt with greene boughes and flowers 

gay beseene : 
Therein he them full faire did entertaine 
Not with such forged showes, as fitter 

beene 
For courting fooles that curtesies would 

faine, 
But with entire affection and appearaunce 

plaine. 

XXXIX. 

Yet was their fare but homely, such as 

hee 
Did use his feeble body to sustaine. 
The which full gladly they did take in 

gree, 
Such as it was, ne did of want complaine, 



But being well sufiiz'd them rested faine. 

But fair Serene all night could take no 
rest, 

Ne yet that gentle Squire, for grievous 
paine 

Of their late woundes, the which the Bla- 
tant Beast 

Had given them, whose grief e through 
suffraunce sore increast. 



So all that night they past in great dis- 
ease. 
Till that the morning, bringing earely 

light 
To guide mens labours, brought them also 

ease, 
And some asswagement of their painefull 

plight. 
Then up they rose, and gan them selves 

to dight 
Unto their journey ; but that Squire and 

Dame 
So faint and feeble were, that they ne 

might 
Endure to travell, nor one foote to frame : 
Their hearts were sicke ; their sides were 

sore ; their feete were lame. 

XLI. 

Therefore the Prince, whom great 

affaires in mynd 
Would not permit to make there lenger 

stay, 
W'as forced there to leave them both be- 

hjnid 
In that good Hermits charge; whom he 

did pray 
To tend themWell. So forth he went his 

way. 
And with him eke the salvage, (that why 

leare 
Seeing his royall usage and array 
Was greatly growne in love of that brave 

pere,) 
Would needes depart ; as shall declared 

be elsewhere. 



CANTO VI. 

The Ilermite heales both Squire and dame 

Of their sore maladies : 
He Turpine doth defeate, and shame 

For his late villanies. 



No wound, which warlike hand of en- 
emy 
Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth 
light 



As doth the poysnous sting, which in- 
famy 
Infixeth in the name of noble wight : 
For by no art, nor any leaches niigli^. 



482 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Ne all the skill, which that immortall 

spright 
Of Podalyi'ius did in it retaine, 
Can remedy such hurts: such hurts are 

hellish paine. 



Such were the wounds the which that 
Blatant Beast 

Made in the bodies of that Squire and 
Dame ; 

And, being such, were now much more 
increast 

For want of taking heede unto the same, 

That now corrupt and curelesse they be- 
came : 

Howbe that carefuU Hermite did his best, 

With many kindes of medicines meete, to 
tame 

The poysnous humour which did most in- 
fest 

Their ranckling wounds, and every day 
them duely drest. 



For he right well in Leaches craft was 
scene; 
And through the long experience of his 

dayes, 
Which had in many fortunes tossed beene 
And past through many perillous assayes. 
He knew the diverse went of mortal! 

wayes, 
And in the mindes of men had great in- 
sight ; 
Which with sage counsell, when they went 

astray. 
He could enforme, and them reduce aright. 
And all the passions heale which wound 
the weaker spright. 



For whylome he had bene a doughty 

Knight, 
As any one that lived in his dales. 
And proved oft in many perillous fight. 
Of which he grace and glory wonne al- 

waies, 
And in all battels bore away the bales : 
But being now attacht with timely age, 
And weary of this worlds unquiet waies, 
He tooke him selfe unto this Hermitage, 
In which he liv'd alone, like carelesse bird 



One day, as he was searching of their 
wounds. 
He found that they had festred privily ; 
And ranckling inward withunrulystounds. 
The inner parts now gan to putrify, 



That quite they seem'd past helpe of sur- 
gery ; 
And rather needed to be disciplinde 
With holesome reede of sad sobriety, 
To rule the stubborne rage of passion 

blinde : 
Give salves to every sore, but counsell to 
the minde. 

VI. 

So, taking them apart into his cell. 
He to that point fit speaches gan to frame, 
As he the art of words knew wondrous 

well, 
And eke could doe as well as say the 

same ; 
And thus he to them sayd : ' Faire daugh- 
ter Dame, 
And you, faire Sonne, which here thus 

long now lie 
In piteous languor since ye hither came, 
In vaine of me ye hope for remedie. 
And I likewise in vaine doe salves to you 
applie : 

VII. 

' For in your selfe your onely helpe doth 

lie 
To heale your selves, and must proceed 

alone 
From your owne will to cure your maladie. 
Who can him cure that will be cur'd of 

none ? 
If therefore health ye seeks, observe this 

one: 
First learne your outward senses to re- 

fraine 
From things that stirre up f raile affection ; 
Your eies, your eares, your tongue, your 

talk restraine 
From that they most affect, and in due 

termes containe. 



' For from those outward sences, ill 

affected, 
The seede of all this evill first doth spring. 
Which at the first, before it had infected, 
Mote easie be supprest with little thing ; 
But being growen strong it forth doth 

bring 
Sorrow, and anguish, and impatient paine, 
In th' inner parts ; and lastly, scattering 
Contagious poyson close through every 

vaine. 
It never rests till it have wrought his 

finall bane. 



* For that beastes teeth, which wounded 
you tofore, 
Are so exceeding venemous and keene, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



483 



Made all of rusty yron ranckling sore, 
That where they bite it booteth not to 

weeiie 
With salve, or antidote, or otlier mene. 
It ever to amend : ne naarvaile ought, 
For that same beast was bred of hellish 

sti'eue, 
And long in darksome Stygian den up- 
brought. 
Begot of foule Echidna, as in bookes is 
taught. 

X. 

' Echidna is a Monster direfull dred, 
Whom Gods doe hate, and heavens abhor 

to see ; 
So hideous is her shape, so huge her bed, 
That even the hellish fiends affrighted 

bee 
At sight thereof, and from her presence 

flee: 
Yet did her face and former parts professe 
A faire young Mayden, full of comely 

glee ; 
But all her hinder parts did plaine ex- 

presse 
A monstrous Dragon, full of fearefull 

uglinesse. 

XI. 

' To her the Gods, for her so dreadful! 

face, 
111 fearefull darkenesse, furthest from the 

skie 
And from the earth, appointed have her 

place 
Mongst rocks and caves, where she eu- 

rold doth lie 
111 hideous horrour and obscurity. 
Wasting the strength of her immortall 

age: 
There did Typhaon with her company ; 
Cruell Typhaon, whose tempestuous rage 
Makes th' heavens tremble oft, and him 

with vowes ass wage. 



t 



XII. 



* Of that coramixtion they did then be- 
get 
This hellish Dog, that bight the Blatant 

Beast ; 
A wicked Monster, that his tongue doth 

whet 
Gainst all, both good and bad, both most 

and least. 
And pours his poysnous gall forth to in- 
fest 
The noblest wights with notable defame : 
Ne ever Knight that bore so lofty creast, 
Ne ever Lady of so honest name, 
But he them spotted with reproch, or 
secrete shame. 



XIII. 

' In value therefore it were with medi- 
cine 

To goe about to salve such kynd of sore, 

That rather ueedes wise read and disci- 
pline, 

Then outward salves that may augment 
it more.' 

'Aye me!' (sayd then Serena, sighing 
sore) 

' What hope of helpe doth then for us 
remaine, 

If that no salves may us to health re- 
store ? ' 

' But sith we need good counsell,' (sayd 
the swaine) 

' Aread, good Sire, some counsell that may 
us sustaine.' 

XIV. 

' The best ' (sayd he) ' that I can you 

advize. 
Is to avoide the occasion of the ill : 
For when the cause, whence evill doth 

arize, 
Removed is, th' effect surceaseth still. 
Abstaine from pleasure, and restraine 

your will ; 
Subdue desire, and bridle loose delight; 
Use scanted diet, and forbeare your fill ; 
Shun secresie, and talke in open sight: 
So shall you soone repaire your present 

evill plight.' 

XV. 

Thus haviug sayd, his sickely patients 
Did gladly hearken to his grave beheast, 
And kept so well his wise commaunde- 

ments, 
That in short space their malady was 

ceast. 
And eke the biting of that harmefull Beast 
Was throughly heal'd. Tho when they 

did perceave 
Their wounds recur 'd, and forces rein- 

creast. 
Of that good Hermite both they tooke 

their leave, 
And went both on their way, ne ech would 

other leave : * 



But each the other vow'd t' accompany : 
The Lady, for that she was much in dred. 
Now left alone in great extremity ; 
The Squire, for that he courteous was in- 
deed. 
Would not her leave alone in her great 

need. 
So both together traveld, till they met 



484 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



With a faire Maydeu clad in mourning 

weed, 
Upon a mangy jade unmeetely set, 
And a lewd foole her leading thorough 

dry and wet. 



But by what meanes that shame to her 

befell. 
And how thereof her selfe she did acquite, 
I must awhile forbeare to you to tell ; 
Till that, as conies by course, I doe recite 
AYhat fortune to the Briton Prince did 

lite, 
Pursuing that proud Knight, the which 

whileare 
Wrought to Sir Calepineso foule despight ; 
And eke his Lady, though she sickely 

were. 
So lewdly had abusde, as ye did lately 

heare. 

XVIII. 

The Prince, according to the former 

token 
Which faire Serene to him delivered had, 
Pursu'd him streight; in mynd to bene 

ywroken 
Of all'the vile demeane and usage bad, 
AVitli which he had those two so ill bestad : 
Ne wight with him on that adventure 

went. 
But that wylde man ; whom though he oft 

forbad. 
Yet for no bidding, nor for beiug shent. 
Would he restrayned be from his attende- 

ment. 

XIX. 

Arriving there, as did by chaunce befall. 
He found the gate wyde ope, and in he 

rode, 
Ne stayd, till that he came into the hall; 
Where soft dismounting, like a weary 

lode, 
Upon the ground with feeble feete he 

trode. 
As he unable were for very neede 
To move one foote, but there must make 

abode : 
The whiles the salvage man did take his 

st^de. 
And in some stable neare did set him up 

to feede. 

XX. 

Ere long to him a homely groome there 

came, 
That in rude wise him asked, what he 

was 
That durst so boldly, without let or 

shame, 
Into his Lords for1)idden hall to passe? 



To whome the Prince, him fayning to em- 
base, 

Mylde answer made, he was an errant 
Knight, 

The which was fall'n into this feeble case 

Through many wounds, which lately he in 
tight 

Received had, and prayd to pitty his ill 
plight. 

XXI. 

But he, the more outrageous and bold, 
Sternely did bid him quickely thence 

avauut. 
Or deare aby ; for-why his Lord of old 
Did hate all errant Knights which there 

did haunt, 
Ne lodging would to any of them graunt ; 
And therefore lightly bad him packe 

away. 
Not sparing him with bitter words to 

taunt. 
And therewithall rude hand on him did 

lay, 
To thrust him out of dore doing his worst 

assay. 

XXII. 

Which when the Salvage, comming now 

in place, 
Beheld, eftsoones he all enraged grew. 
And, running streight upon that villaine 

base, 
Like a fell Lion at him fiercely flew. 
And with his teeth and nailes, in present 

vew 
Him rudely rent and all to peeces tore ; 
So miserably him all helpelesse slew, 
That with the noise, whilest he did loudly 

rore, 
The people of the house rose forth in great 

uprore. 

XXIII. 

Who when on ground they saw their 
fellow slaine, 
And that same Knight and Salvage stand- 
ing by. 
Upon them two they fell with might and 

maine. 
And on them layd so huge and horribly. 
As if they would have slaine them pres- 
ently : 
But the bold Prince defended him so well, 
And their assault withstood so mightily. 
That, maugre all their might, he did repell 
And beat them back, whilest many un- 
derneath him fell. 

XXIV. 

Yet he them still so sharpely did pur-i 
sew, 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



485 



^ 



That few of them he left alive, wliich fled 
Those evill tidings to their Lord to shew: 
Who, hearing how his people badly sped, 
Came forth in hast ; where, when as with 

the dead 
He saw the ground all strow'd, and that 

same Knight 
And salvage with their bloud fresh steem- 

ing red, 
He woxe nigh mad with wrath and fell 

despight, 
And with reprochfull words him thus be- 
spake on bight. 



' Art thou he, tray tor, that with treason 

vile 
Hast slaine my men in this unmanly 

maner, 
And now triumphest in the piteous spoile 
Of these poore folk, whose soules with 

black dishonor 
And foule defame doe deeke thy bloudy 

baner ? 
The meede whereof shall shortly be thy 

shame. 
And wretched end which still attendeth 

on her.' 
With that himselfe to battell he did frame ; 
So did his forty yeomen, which there with 

him came. 

XXVI. 

With dreadfull force they all did him 

assaile. 
And round about with boystrous strokes 

oppresse, 
That on his shield did rattle like to haile 
In a great tempest ; that in such distresse 
He wist not to which side him to ad- 

dresse : 
And evermore that craven cowherd Knight 
Was at his backe with heartiesse heedi- 

nesse, 
Way ting if he un wares him murther 

might; 
For cowardize doth still in villany delight. 



xxvir. 

■ Whereof whenas the Prince was well 
" aware, 

He to him turnd with furious intent, 
And him against his powre gan to pre- 
pare; 
Like a fierce Bull, that being busie bent 
To fight with many foes about him ment, 
Feeling some curre behinde his heeles to 

bite, 
Turnes him about with fell avengement: 
So likewise turnde the Prince upon the 
Knight, 



And layd at him amaine with all his will 
and might. 



XXVIII. 

Who, when he once his dreadfull strokes 

had tasted, 
Durst not the furie of his force abyde, 
But turn'd abacke, and to retyre him 

hasted 
Through the thick prease, there thinking 

him to hyde : 
But, when the Prince had once him 

plainely eyde, 
He foot by foot him followed alway, 
Ne would him suffer once to shrinke 

asyde. 
But joyning close huge lode at him did 

lay; 
Who flying still did ward, and warding 

fly away. 

XXIX. 

But, when his foe he still so eager saw, 
Unto his heeles himselfe he did betake, 
Hoping unto some refuge to withdraw : 
Ne would the Prince him ever foot forsake 
Where so he went, but after him did 

make. 
He fled from roome to roome, from place 

to place, 
Whylest every joynt for dread of death 

did quake. 
Still looking after him that did himchace. 
That made him evermore increase his 

speedie pace. 



At last he up into the chamber came 
Whereas his love was sitting all alone, 
Wayting what tydings of her folke be- 
came. 
There did the Prince him overtake anone, 
Crying in vaine to her him to bemone; 
And with his sword him on the head did 

smyte. 
That to the ground he fell in senselesse 

swone : 
Yet, whether thwart or flatly it did lyte, 
The tempred Steele did not into his 
braynepan byte. 

XXXI. 

Which when the Ladie saw, with great 

affright 
She starting up began to shrieke aloud ; 
And with her garment covering him from 

sight, 
Seem'd under her protection him to 

shroud ; 
And falling lowly at his feet her bowd 
Upon her knee, iutreating him for grace, 



m 



486 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



And often him besought, and prayd, and 

vowd, 
That with the ruth of her so wretched case, 
He stayd his second strooke, and did his 

hand abase. 

XXXII. 

Her weed she then withdrawing did 

him discover; 
Who now come to himselfe yet would not 

rize, 
But still did lie as dead, and quake, and 

quiver. 
That even the Prince his baseuesse did 

despize; 
And eke his Dame, him seeing in such 

guize, 
Gan him recomfort and from ground to 

reare : 
Who rising up at last in ghastly wize. 
Like troubled ghost, did dreadfully ap- 

peare, 
As one that had no life him left through 

former feare. 

XXXIII. 

Whom when the Prince so deadly saw 

dismayd, 
He for such basenesse shamefully him 

sheut, 
And with sharpe words did bitterly up- 

brayd : 
'Vile cowheard dogge! now doe I much 

repent, 
That ever I this life unto thee lent. 
Whereof thou, caytive, so unworthie art, 
That both thy love, for lacke of hardi- 

ment. 
And eke thy selfe, for want of manly hart, 
And eke all knights hast shamed with 

this knightlesse part. 

XXXIV. 

* Yet further hast thou heaped shame to 

shame. 
And crime to crime, by this thy cowheard 

feare : 
For first, it was to thee reprochfull blame 
To erect this wicked custome, which I 

heare 
Gainst errant Knights and Ladies thou 

dost reare ; 
Whom when thou mayst thou dost of 

arms despoile. 
Or of their upper garment which they 

weare ; 
Yet doest thou not with manhood, but 

with guile, 
Maintaine this evil use, thy foes thereby 

to foile. 



' And lastly, in approvance of thy 
wrong, 
To shew such faintnesse and foule cow- 
ard ize 
Is greatest shame ; for oft it falles, that 

strong 
And valiant Knights doe rashly enterprize 
Either for fame, or else for exercize, 
A wrongfull quarrell to maintaine by 

fight; 
Yet have through prowesse and their 

brave emprize 
Gotten great worship in this worldes sight : 
For greater force there needs to main- 
taine wrong then right. 



'Yet, since thy life unto this Ladie 

fayre 
I given have, live in reproch and scorue, 
Ne ever amies ne ever knighthood dare 
Hence to professe ; for shame is to adorne 
With so brave badges one so basely borne : 
But onely breath, sith that I did forgive.' 
So having from his craven bodie tome 
Those goodly armes, he them away did 

give. 
And onely suffred him this wretched life 

to live. 

XXXVII. 

There whilest he thus was setling things 

above, 
Atwene that Ladie myld and recreant 

knight. 
To whom his life he graunted for her love. 
He gan bethinke him in what perilous 

plight 
He had behynd him left that salvage wight 
Amongst so many foes, whom sure he 

thought 
By this quite slaine in so unequall fight : 
Therefore descending backe in haste he 

sought 
If yet he were alive, or to destruction 

brought. 

XXXVIII. 

There he him found environed about 
With slaughtred bodies which his hand 

had slaine, 
And laying yet afresh, with courage stout, 
Upon the rest that did alive remaiue; 
Whom he likewise right sorely did con- 

straine. 
Like scattred sheepe, to seeke for safetie. 
After he gotten had with busie paine 
Some of their weapons which thereby did 

lie. 
With which he layd about, and made. 

them fast to tlie. 



CANTO VI, J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



487 



XXXIX. 

Whom when the Prince so felly saw to 

rage, 
Approching to him neare, his hand he 

stayd, 
And sought by making signes him to as- 

swage ; 
Who them perceiving streight to him 

obayd, 
As to his Lord, and downe his weapons 

layd, 
As if he long had to his heasts bene 

trayned. 
Thence he him brought away, and up con- 

vayd 
Into the chamber, where that Dame re- 
in ay ned 
AVith her unworthy knight, who ill him 

entertayned. 

XL. 

Whom when the Salvage saw from 

damiger free. 
Sitting beside his Ladie there at ease. 
He well remembred that the same was 

hee, 
Which lately sought his Lord for to dis- 
please : 
Tho all in rage he on him streight did 

seaze, 
As if he would in peeces him have rent; 
And, were not that the Prince did him 

appeaze, 
He had not left one limbe of him uu- 

rent : 
But streight he held his hand at his com- 

maundement. 

XLI. 

Thus having all things well in peace or- 

dayned, 
The Prince himselfe there all that night 

did rest ; 
Wliere him Blandina fayrely entertayned 
With all the courteous glee and goodly 

feast 
The which for him she could imagine 

best: 
P'or well she knew the wayes to win good 

will 
Of every wight, that were not too infest; 
And how to please the minds of good and 

ill. 



Through tempering of her words and 
lookes by wondrous skill. 

XLII. 

Yet were her words and lookes but false 

and fayned. 
To some hid end to make more easie way, 
Or to allure such fondlings whom she 

trayned 
Into her trap unto their owne decay: 
Thereto, when needed, she could weepe 

and pray, 
And when her listed she could fawne and 

flatter; 
Now smyling smoothly, like to sommers 

day. 
Now glooming sadly, so to cloke her mat- 
ter; 
Yet were her words but wynd, and all her 

teares but water. 



Whether such grace were given her by 

kynd, 
As women wont their guilefull wits to 

guyde. 
Or learn'd the art to please, I doe not 

fynd : 
This well I wote, that she so well applyde 
Her pleasing tongue, that soone she paci- 

fyde 
The wrathfull Prince, and wrought her 

husbands peace : 
Who nathelesse. not therewith satisfyde, 
His rancorous despight did not releasse, 
Ne secretly from thought of fell revenge 

sureeasse : 

XLIV. 

For all that night, the whyles the Prince 
did rest 
In carelesse couch, not weeting what was 

ment. 
He watcht in close awayt with weapons 

prest, 
Willing to worke his villenous intent 
On him that had so shamefully him shent: 
Yet durst he not for very cowardize 
Effect the same, whylest all the night was 

spent. 
The morrow next the Prince did early 

rize. 
And passed forth to follow his first enter- 
prize. 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



CANTO VII. 

Turpine is baffuld ; his two knights 
Doe gaine their treasons meed : 

Fayre Mirabeliaes punishment 
For Loves disdaine decreed. 



Like as the geutle hart it selfe bewrayes 
In doing gentle deedes with franke de- 
light, 
Even so the baser mind it selfe displayes 
In cancred malice and reveuget'uU spight: 
For to maligue, t' envie, t' use shifting 

slight, 
Be arguments of a vile donghill mind. 
Which, what it dare not doe by open 

might. 
To worke by wicked treason wayes doth 

find, 
By such discourteous deeds discovering 
his base kind. 



That well appears in this discourteous 
knight. 
The coward Turpine, whereof now I 

treat ; 
Who notwithstanding that in former 

fight 
He of the Prince his life received late. 
Yet in his mind, malitious and ingrate, 
He gan devize to be aveng'd anew 
For all that shame, which kindled in- 
ward hate : 
Therefore, so soone as he was out of 

vew, 
Himselfe in hast he arm'd, and did him 
fast pursew. 



Well did he tract his steps ashe did ryde, 
Yet would not neare approch in daungers 

eye, 
But kept aloofe for dread to be descryde, 
Untill fit time and place he mote espy, 
Where he mote worke him scath' and 

villeny. 
At last he met two knights to him un- 

knowne. 
The which were armed both agreeably. 
And both combynd, whatever chaunce 

were bh)wne 
Betwixt them to divide, and each to make 

his owne. 



To whom false Turpine comming cour- 
teously. 



To cloke the mischief e which he inly 

ment, 
Gan to complaine of great disco urtesie. 
Which a straunge knight, that neare afore 

him went. 
Had doen to him, and his deare Ladie 

shent : 
Which if they would afford him ayde at 

need 
For to avenge in time convenient. 
They should accomplish both a knightly 

deed, 
And for their paines obtaine of him a 

goodly meed. 



The knights beleev'd that all he sayd 

was trew; 
And being fresh and full of youthly 

spright. 
Were glad to heare of that adventure 

new, 
In which they mote make triall of their 

might 
Which never yet they had approv'd in 

fight. 
And eke desirous of the offred meed : 
Said then the one of them; 'Where is 

that wight, 
The which hath doen to thee this wrong- 
full deed. 
That we may it avenge, and punish him 

with speed ? ' 

VI. 

* He rides ' (said Turpine) * there not 
far re afore. 
With a wyld man soft footing by his 

syde; 
That, if ye list to haste a litle more, 
Ye may him overtake in timely tyde.' 
Eftsoones they pricked forth with for- 
ward pryde. 
And, ere that litle while they ridden had, 
The gentle Prince not farre away they 

spyde, 
Ryding a softly pace with portance sad. 
Devizing of his love more then of daunger 
drad. 

VII. 



Then one of 
cryde, 



them aloud unto himi 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



489 



Biddiug him turue agaiue, false traytour 

knight, 
Foule woman-wronger, for he him defyde. 
With that they both at once with equall 

spight 
Did bend their speares, and both with 

equall might 
Against him ran ; but th' one did misse 

his marke, 
Aiid being carried with his force forth- 
right 
Glaunst swiftly by; like to that heavenly 

sparke. 
Which glyding through the ayre lights all 

the heavens darke. 

VIII. 

But th' other, ayming better, did him 

smite 
Full in the shield with so impetuous 

powre. 
That all his launce in peeces shivered 

quite, 
And scattered all about fell on the flowre : 
But the stout Prince, with much more 

steddy stow re, 
Full on his bever did him strike so sore, 
That the cold Steele, through piercing, did 

devowre 
His vitall breath, and to the ground him 

bore. 
Where still he bathed lay in his owne 

bloody gore. 

IX. 

As when a cast of Faulcons make their 

flight 
At an Herneshaw, that lyes aloft on wing, 
The whyles they strike at him with heed- 

lesse might, 
The warie foule his bill doth backward 

wring ; 
On which the first, whose force her first 

doth bring. 
Her selfe quite through the bodie doth 

engore, 
And falleth downe to ground like sense- 

lesse thing; 
But th' other, not so swift as she before, 
Fayles of her souse, and passing by doth 

hurt no more. 



By this the other, which was passed by, 
Himselfe recovering was retuni'd to fight, 
Wliere when he saw his fellow lifelesse ly, 
He much was daunted with so dismall 

sight ; 
Yet, nought abating of his former spight, 
Let drive at him with so malitious myud, 



As if he would have passed through him 

quight ; 
But the steele-head no stedfast hold could 

fynd, 
But glauncing by deceiv'd him of that he 

desyud. 

XI. 

Not so the Prince; for his well-learned 

speare 
Tooke surer hould, and from his horses 

backe 
Above a launces length him forth did 

beare. 
And gainst the cold hard earth so sore 

him strake, 
That all his bones in peeces nigh he 

brake. 
Where seeing him so lie, he left his steed, 
And to him leaping vengeance thought to 

take 
Of him for all his former follies meed. 
With flaming sword in hand his terror 

more to breed. 

XII. 

The fearfull swayne beholding death 

so nie, 
Cryde out aloud for mercie, him to 

save ; 
In lieu whereof he would to him descrie 
Great treason to him meant, his life to 

reave. 
The Prince soone hearkned, and his life 

forgave. 
Then thus said he : ' There is a straunger 

knight. 
The which, for promise of great meed, us 

drave 
To this attempt to wreake his hid de- 

spight. 
For that himselfe thereto did want suffi- 
cient might.' 

XIII. 

The Prince much mused at such villenie, 
And sayd : ' Now sure ye well have 

earn'd your meed; 
For th' one is dead, and th' other soone 

shall die, 
Unlesse to me thou hether bring with 

speed 
The wretch that hyr'd you to this wicked 

deed.' 
He glad of life, and willing eke to wreake 
The guilt on him w^hich did this mischiefe 

breed, 
Swore by his sword, that neither day nor 

weeke 
He would surceasse, but him where so he 

were would seeke. 



490 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



So up he rose, and forth straightway he 

weut 
Backe to the place where Turpine late he 

lore; 
There he him found in great astonish- 
ment, 
To see him so bedight with bloodie gore. 
And griesly wounds that him appalled 

sore; 
Yet thus at length he said : ' How now. 

Sir knight, 
What meaneth this which here I see 

before ? 
How fortuneth this foule micomely 

plight. 
So different from that which earst ye 

seem'd in sight ? ' 



' Perdie,' (said he) ' in evill houre it 

fell, 
That ever I for meed did undertake 
So hard a taske as life for hyre to sell ; 
The which I earst adveutur'd for your 

sake : 
Witnesse the wounds, and this wyde 

bloudie lake, 
Which ye may see yet all about me 

steeme. 
Therefore now yeeld, as ye did promise 

make, 
My due reward, the which right well I 

deeme 
I yearned have, that life so dearely did 

redeeme.' 

* XVI. 

* But where then is ' (quoth he halfe 

wrothfullj) 
' Where is the bootie, which therefore I 

bought, 
That cursed caytive, my strong enemy, 
That recreant knight, whose hated life I 

sought ? 
And where is eke your friend which halfe 

it ought?' 
' He lyes ' (said he) ' upon the cold bare 

ground, 
Slayne of that errant knight with whom 

he fought ; 
Whom afterwards my selfe with many a 

wound 
Did slay againe, as ye may see there in 

the stound.' 



Thereof false Turpin was full glad and 
faine. 
And needs with him streight to the place 
would ryde, 



Where he himselfe might see his foemau 

slaine; 
For else his feare could not be satisfyde. 
So as they rode he saw the way all dyde 
With streames of blond ; which tracting 

by the traile, 
Ere long they came, whereas in evill 

tyde 
That other swayne, like ashes deadly 

pale, 
Lay in the lap of death, rewing his 

wretched bale. 

xvin. 

Much did the Craven seeme to mone 
his case. 
That for his sake his deare life had for- 
gone ; 
And, him bewayling with affection base, 
Did counterfeit kind pittie where was 

none: 
For wheres no courage, theres no ruth nor 

mone. 
Thence passing forth, not farre away he 

found 
Whereas the Prince himselfe lay all alone, 
Loosely displayd upon the grassie ground, 
Possessed of sweete sleepe that luld him 
soft in swound. 



Wearie of travell in his former fight, 
He there in shade himselfe had layd to 

rest. 
Having his armes and warlike things un- 

dight, 
Fearelesse of foes that mote his peace mo- 
lest; 
The whyles his salvage page, that wont 

be pi-est. 
Was wandred in the wood another way. 
To doe some thing that seemed to him 

best; 
The whyles his Lord in silver slomber 

lay, 
Like to the Evening starre adorn 'd with 

deawy ray. 

XX. 

Whom when as Turpin saw so loosely 
layd, 
He weened well that he in deed was dead. 
Like as that other knight to him had sayd ; 
But, when he nigh approcht, he mote aread 
Plaine signes in liim of life and livelihead : 
Whereat, much griev'd against that 

straunger knight. 
That him too light of credence did mis- 
lead. 
He would have backe retyred from that 
sight. 



CANTO Vll.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



49 



That was to him on earth the deadliest 
despight. 

XXI. 

But that same knight would not once 
let him start, 
But plainely gan to him declare the case 
Of all his mischiefe and late lucklesse 

smart ; 
How both he and his fellow there in place 
Were vanquished, and put to foule dis- 
grace ; 
And how that he, iu lieu of life him lent, 
Had vow'd unto the victor him to trace 
And follow through the world where so he 

went. 
Till that he him delivered to his punish- 
ment. 

XXII. 

He, therewith much abashed and affrayd, 
Began to tremble every limbe and vaine; 
And, softly whispering him, entyrely 

prayd 
T' advize him better then by such a traine 
Him to betray unto a straunger swaine : 
Yet rather counseld him contrarywize, 
Sith he likewise did wrong by him sus- 

taine, 
To joyne with him and vengeance to de- 
vize, 
Whylest time did offer meanes him sleep- 
ing to surprize. 

XXIII. 

Nathelesse, for all his speach the gentle 
knight 
Would not be tempted to such villenie, 
Regarding more his faith which he did 

plight. 
All were it to his mortall enemie. 
Then to entrap him by false treacherie : 
Great shame in lieges blood to be em- 
brew 'd! 
Thus whylest they were debating diverslie, 
The Salvage forth out of the wood issew'd 
Backe to the place, whereas his Lord he 
sleeping vew'd. 



There when he saw those two so neare 
him stand, 

He doubted much what mote their mean- 
ing bee ; 

And throwing downe his load out of his 
hand, 

(To weet, great store of forrest frute 
which hee 

Had for his food late gathered from the 
tree,) 

Himselfe unto his weapon he betooke. 

That was an oaken plant, which lately hee 



Rent by the root; which he so sternely 

shooke. 
That like an hazell wand it quivered and 

quooke. 

XXV. 

Whereat the Prince awaking, when he 

spyde 
The tray tour Turpin with that other 

knight. 
He started up ; and snatching neare his 

syde 
His trustie sword, the servant of his 

might. 
Like a fell Lyon leaped to him light. 
And his left hand upon his collar layd. 
Therewith the cowheard, deaded with 

affright. 
Fell flat to ground, ne word unto him 

sayd, 
But, holding up his hands, with silence 

mercie prayd. 



But he so full of indignation was. 
That to his prayer nought he would in- 
cline. 
But, as he lay upon the humbled gras. 
His foot he set on his vile necke, in signe 
Of servile yoke, that nobler harts roi)ine: 
Then, letting him arise like abject thrall. 
He gan to him object his haynous crime. 
And to revile, and rate, and recreant call. 
And lastly to despoyle of knightly ban- 
nerall. 

XXVII. 

And after all, for greater infamie. 
He by the heeles him hung upon a tree. 
And baffuld so, that all which passed by 
The picture of his punishment might see. 
And by the like ensample warned bee. 
How ever they through treason doe tres- 

passe. 
But turne we now backe to that Ladie 

free. 
Whom late we left ryding upon an Asse. 
Led by a Carle and foole which by her side 

did passe. 

XXVIII. 

She was a Ladie of great dignilie, 
And lifted up to honorable place. 
Famous through all the land of Fa;>rie: 
Though of meane parentage and kindred 

base, 
Yet deckt with wondrous giftes of natures 

grace. 
That all men did her person much admire. 
And praise the featui-o of her goodly face ; 
The beanies whereof did kindle lovely fire 
In th' harts of many a knight, and many 

a gentle squire. 



492 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



XXIX. 

But she thereof grew proud and insolent, 
That none she worthie thought to be her 

fere, 
But scornd them all that love unto her 

ment: 
Yet was she lov'd of many a worthy pere : 
Unworthy she to be belov'd so dere, 
That could not weigh of worthinesse 

aright ; 
For beautie is more glorious bright and 

clere, 
The more it is admir'd of many a wight, 
And noblest she that served is of noblest 

knight. 

XXX. 

But this coy Damzell thought contrari- 

wize, 
That such proud looks would make her 

praysed more ; 
And that, the more she did all love despize, 
The more would wretched lovers her 

adore. 
What cared she who sighed for her sore, 
Or who did wayle or watch the wearie 

night ? 
Let them that list their lucklesse lot de- 
plore, 
She w^as borne free, not bound to any 

wight, 
And so would ever live, and love'her owne 

delight. 

XXXI. 

Through such her stubborne stifnesse 

and hard hart. 
Many a wretch for want of remedie 
Did languish long in life-consuming smart, 
And at the last through dreary dolour die : 
Whylest she, the Ladie of her libertie, 
Did boast her beautie had such soveraine 

might. 
That with the onely twinckle of her eye 
She could or save or spill whom she would 

bight : 
What could the Gods doe more, but doe it 

more aright ? 

XXXII. 

But loe ! the Gods, that mortall follies 

vew. 
Did worthily revenge this maydens pride ; 
And, nought regarding her so goodly hew. 
Did laugh at her that many did deride, 
Whilest she did weepe, of no man raerci- 

fide: 
For on a day, when Cupid kept his court, 
As he is wont at each Saint Valentide, 
Unto the which all lovers doe resort. 
That of their loves successe they there 

may make report; 



It fortun'd then, that when the roules 

were red 
In which the names of all loves folke were 

fyled. 
That many there were missing; wiiich 

were ded, 
Or kept in bands, or from their loves 

exyled, 
Or by some other violence despoyled : 
Which when as Cupid heard, he wexed 

w^'oth ; 
And doubting to be wronged or beguyled, 
He bad his eyes to be unblindfold both. 
That he might see his men, and muster 

them by oth. 



Then found he many missing of his crew, 
Which wont doe suit and service to his 

might. 
Of whom what was becomen no man knew. 
Therefore a Jurie was impaueld streight 
T' enquire of them, whether by force, or 

sleight, 
Or their owne guilt, they were away con- 

vayd ? 
To whom foule Infamie and fell Despight 
(4ave evidence, that they were all betrayd 
And murdred cruelly by a rebellious Mayd. 



Fayre Mirabella was her name, whereby 
Of all those crymes she there indited was : 
All which when Cupid heard, he by and by 
In great displeasure wild a Capias 
Should issue forth t' attach that scorne- 

full lasse. 
The warrant straight was made, and 

therewithal! 
A Baylieffe-errant forth in post did passe. 
Whom they by name there Portamore did 

call; 
He which doth summon lovers to loves 

judgement hall. 



The damzell was attacht, and shortly 
brought 

Unto the barre whei-eas she was arrayned ; 

But she thereto nould plead, nor answere 
ought, 

Even for stubborne pride which her re- 
stray ned. 

So judgement past, as is by law ordayned 

In cases like ; which when at last she saw. 

Her stubborne hart, which love before 
disdayned, 

Gan stoupe; and, falling downe with 
humble awe, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



493 



Cryde mercie, to abate the extremitie of 
law. 

XXXVII. 

The Sonne of Venus, who is myld by 

kynd 
But whereheisprovokt with peevishnesse, 
Unto her prayers piteously enclynd, 
And did the rigour of his doome re- 

presse ; 
Yet not so freely, but that nathelesse 
He unto her a penance did impose. 
Which was, that through this worlds 

wyde wildernes 
She wander should in companie of those. 
Till she had sav'd so many loves as she 

did lose. 

XXXVIII. 

So now she had bene wandring two 

whole yeares 
Throughout the world in this uncomely 

case, 
Wasting her goodly hew in heavie teares, 
And her good dayes in dolorous disgrace: 
Yet had she not in all these two yeares 

space 
Saved but two ; yet in two yeares before. 
Through lier dispiteous pride, whilest 

love lackt place, 
She had destroyed two and twenty more. 
Aie me! how could her love make half 

amends therefore ? 



And now she was uppon the weary 
way, 

When as the gentle Squire, with faire 
Serene, 

Met her in such misseeming foule array ; 

The whiles that mighty man did her de- 
meane 

With all the evill termes and cruell meane 

That he could make : And eeke that angry 
foole 

Which foUow'd her, with cursed hands 
uncleane 

Whipping her horse, did with his smart- 
ing toole 

Oft whip her dainty selfe, and much aug- 
ment her doole. 



Ne ought it mote availe her to entreat 
The one or th' other better her to use ; 
For both so wilfull were and obstinate 
That all her piteous plaint they did re- 
fuse, 
And rather did the more her beate and 

bruse : 
But most the former villaine, which did 
lead 



Her tyreling jade, was bent her to abuse ; 
Who, though she were with wearinesse 

nigh dead. 
Yet would not let her lite, nor rest a little 

stead : 

XLI. 

For he was sterne and terrible by 

nature, 
And eeke of person huge and hideous. 
Exceeding much the measure of mans 

stature. 
And rather like a Gyant monstruous : 
For sooth he was descended of the hous 
Of those old Gyants, which did warres 

darraine 
Against the heaven in order battailous ; 
And sib to great Orgolio, which was 

slaine 
By Arthure, when as Unas Knight he did 

maintaine. 

XLII. 

His lookes were dreadfull, and his fiery 

eies, 
Like two great Beacons, glared bright 

and wyde, 
Glauncing askew, as if his enemies 
He scorned in his overweening pryde ; 
And stalking stately, like a Crane, did 

stryde 
At every step uppon the tiptoes hie : 
And, all the way he went, on every syde 
He gaz'd abo^t and stared horriblie, 
As if he with his lookes would all men 

terrific. 

XLIII. 

He wore no armour, ne for none did 
care, 
As no whit dreading any living wight; 
But in a Jacket, quilted richly rare 
Upon checklaton, he was straungely 

dight; 
And on his head a roll of linnen plight, 
Like to the Mores of Malaber, he wore. 
With which his locks, as bla( ke as pitchy 

night. 
Were bound about and voyded from be- 
fore ; 
And in his hand a mighty yron club he 
bore. 

XLIV. 

This was Disdaine, who led that Ladies 
horse 

Through thick and thin, through moun- 
tains and through plains, 

Compelling her, wher she would not, by 
force, 

Haling her palfrey by the hempen raines: 

But that same foole, which most increast 
her paines, 



494 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



I 



Was Scorne; who having in his hand a 
whip, 

Her therewith yirks ; and still, when she 
complaines, 

The more he laughes, and does her closely 
quip. 

To see her sore lament and bite her ten- 
der lip. 

XLV. 

Whose eruell handling when that Squire 

beheld, 
And saw those villaines her so vildely 

use, 
His gentle heart with indignation sweld. 
And could no lenger beare so great 

abuse 
As such a Lady so to beate and bruse ; 
But, to him stepping, such a stroke him 

lent. 
That forst him th' halter from his hand 

to loose. 
And maugre all his might backe to re- 
lent : 
Else had he surely there bene slaine, or 

fowly shent, 

XLVI. 

The villaine, wroth for greeting him so 

sore, 
Gathered him selfe together soone againe, 
And with his yron batton which he bore 
Let drive at him so dreadfully amaine, 
That for his safety he did him constraine 
To give him ground, and shift to every 

side. 
Rather then once his burden to sustaine : 
For bootelesse thing him seemed to 

abide 
So mighty blowes, or prove the puis- 

saunce of his pride. 



Like as a Mastiffe having at a bay 
A salvage Bull, whose eruell homes doe 

threat 
Desperate daunger, if he them assay, 
Traceth his ground, and round about doth 

beat. 
To spy where he may some advauntage 

set. 
The whiles the beast doth rage and loudly 

rore ; 
So did the Squire, the whiles the Carle 

did fret 
And fume in his disdainefuU mynd the 

more, 



And oftentimes by Turmagant and Ma- 
hound swore. 

XLVIII. 

Nathelesse so sharpely still he him pur- 

sewd. 
That at advantage him at last he tooke, 
When his foote slipt, (that slip he dearely 

rewd) 
And with his yron club to ground him 

strooke ; 
Where still he lay, ne out of swoune 

awooke, 
Till heavy hand the Carle upon him layd, 
And bound him fast: Tho, when he up 

did looke 
And saw him selfe captiv'd, he was dis- 

mayd , 
Ne powre had to withstand, ne hope of 

any ayd. 

XLIX. 

Then up he made him rise, and forward 

fare, 
Led in a rope which both his hands did 

bynd; 
Ne ought that foole for pitty did him 

spare. 
But with his whip, him following behynd, 
Him often scourg'd, and forst his feete to 

fynd : 
And other-whiles with bitter mockes and 

mowes 
He would him scorne, that to his gentle 

mynd 
Was much more grievous then the others 

blowes : 
Words sharpely wound, but greatest 

griefe of scorning growes. 



The faire Serena, when she saw him fall 
Under that villaines club, then surely 

thought 
That slaine he was, or made a wretched 

thrall, 
And fled away with all the speede she 

mought. 
To seeke for safety; which long time she 

sought, 
And past through many perils by the 

way, 
Ere she againe to Calepine was brought: 
The which discourse as now I must de- 
lay, 
Till Mirabellaes fortunes I doe further 

say. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



495 



CANTO VIII. 

Prince A rthure overcomes Disdaine ; 

Quites Mirabel! from dreed : 
Serena, found of Salvages, 

By Calepine is freed. 



Ye gentle Ladies, in whose soveraine 

powre 
Tove hath the glory of his kingdome left, 
And th' hearts of men, as your eternall 

dowre, 
In yron chaiues of liberty bereft, 
Delivered hath into your hands by gift, 
Be well aware how ye the same doe use. 
That pride doe not to tyranny you lift; 
I^east, if men you of cruelty accuse, 
He from you take that chiefedome which 

ye doe abuse. 



And as ye soft and tender are by kynde, 
Adornd with goodly gifts of beauties 

grace. 
So be ye soft and tender eeke in mynde ; 
But cruelty and hardnesse from you 

chace, 
That all your other praises will deface, 
And from you turne the love of men to 

hate : 
Ensample take of Mirabellaes case, 
"Who from the high degree of happy state 
Fell into wretched woes, which she re- 
pented late. 

HI. 

Who after thraldome of the gentle 
Squire, 
Which she beheld with lamentable eye, 
Was touched with compassion entire. 
And much lamented his calamity, 
That for her sake fell into misery ; 
Which booted nought for prayers nor for 

threat 
To hope for to release or mollify, 
For aye the more that she did them en- 
treat, 
The more they him misust, and cruelly 
did beat. 

IV. 

So as they forward on their way did pas, 
Him still reviling and afflicting sore, 
They met Prince Arthure with Sir Enias, 
(That was that courteous Knight, whom 

he before 
Having subdew'd yet did to life restore ;) 
To whom as they approcht, they gan aug- 
ment 



Their cruelty, and him to punish more. 
Scourging and haling him more vehe- 
ment ; 
As if it them should grieve to see his 
punishment. 



The Squire him selfe, when as he saw 

his Lord 
The wituesse of his wretchednesse in 

place, 
Was much asham'd that with an hempen 

cord 
He like a dog was led in captive case, 
And did his head for bashfulnesse abase, 
As loth to see or to be seene at all : 
Shame would be hid. But whenas Enias 
Beheld two such, of two such villaines 

thrall. 
His manly mynde was much emmoved 

therewithall ; 



And to the Prince thus sayd : ' See you. 

Sir Knight, 
The greatest shame that ever eye yet saw, 
Youd Lady and her Squire with foule 

despight 
Abusde, against all reason and all law. 
Without regard of pitty or of awe ? 
See, how they doe that Squire beat and 

revile! 
See, how they doe the Lady hale and 

draw ! 
But, if ye please to lend me leave awhile, 
I will them soone. acquite, and both of 

blame assoile.' 



The Prince assented ; and then he, 

streightway 
Dismounting light, his shield about him 

threw, 
With which approching thus he gan to 

say: 
' Abide, ye caytive treachetours untrew. 
That have with treason thralled unto 

you 
These two, unworthy of your wretched 

bands. 
And now your crime with cruelty pursew ! 



496 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Abide, and from them lay your loathly 

hands, 
Or else abide the death that hard before 

you stands.' 



The villaine stayd not aunswer to in- 
vent, 
But with his yron club i^reparing way. 
His miudes sad message backe unto him 

sent; 
The which descended with such dreadfull 

sway , 
That seemed nought the course thereof 

could stay, 
No more then lightening from the lofty 

sky: 
Ne list the Knight the powre thereof 

assay, 
Whose doome was death; but, lightly 

slipping by, 
Un wares defrauded his intended destiny : 



And, to requite him with the like againe, 
With his sharpe sword he liercely at him 

tlew, 
And strooke so strongly, that the Carle 

with paine 
Saved him selfe but that he there him 

slew ; 
Yet sav'd not so, but that the blond it 

drew, 
And gave his foe good hope of victory: 
Who therewith flesht iipon him set anew. 
And with the second stroke thought cer- 

tainely 
To have supplyde the first, and paide the 

usury. 

X. 

But Fortune aunswerd not unto his 

call; 
For, as his hand was heaved up on hight, 
The villaine met him in the middle fall, 
And with his club bet backe his brondyron 

bright 
So forcibly, that with his owne hands 

might, 
Rebeaten backe upon himselfe againe. 
He driven was to ground in selfe despight ; 
From whence ere he recovery could gaine, 
He in his necke had set his foote with fell 

disdaine. 

XI. 

With that the foole, which did that end 

awayte, 
Came running in ; and, whilest on ground 

he lay, 
Laide heavy hands on him and held so 

strayte, 



That downe he kept him with his scorne- 

full sway. 
So as he could not weld him any way : 
The whiles that other villaine went about 
Him to have bound and thrald without 

delay ; 
The whiles the foole did him revile and 

flout, 
Threatning to yoke them two and tame 

their corage stout. 



As when a sturdy ploughman with his 

hynde 
By strength have overthrowne a stub- 
borne steare. 
They downe him hold, and fast with cords 

do bynde. 
Till they him force the buxome yoke to 

beare : 
So did these two this Knight oft tug and 

teare. 
Which when the Prince beheld, there 

standing by, 
He left his lofty steede to aide him neare ; 
And, buckling soone him selfe, gan 

fiercely fly 
Upon that Carle to save his friend from 

jeopardy. 

XIII. 

The villaine, leaving him unto his mate 
To be captiv'd and handled as he list, 
Himselfe addrest unto this new debate, 
Vnd with his club him all about so blist, 
That he which way to turne him scarcely 

wist : 
Sometimes aloft he layd, sometimes 

alow. 
Now here, now there, and oft him neare 

he mist ; 
So doubtfully, that hardly one could 

know 
Whether more wary were to give or ward 

the blow. 

XIV. 

But yet the Prince so well enured was 
AVith such huge strokes, approved oft in 

fight, 
That way to them he gave forth right to 

pas; 
Ne would endure the daunger of their 

might. 
But wayt advantage when they downe 

did light. 
At last the caytive, after long discourse. 
When all his strokes he saw avoyded 

quite. 
Resolved in one t' assemble all his force, 
And make one end of him without ruth 

or remorse. 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE OUEENE. 



497 



His dreadfull hand he heaved up aloft, 
And with his dreadfull instrument of 

yre 
Thought sure have pownded him to 

powder soft, 
Or deepe emboweld in the earth en tyre : 
But Fortune did not with his will con- 
spire ; 
For, ere his stroke attayned his intent. 
The noble childe, preventing his desire, 
Under his club with wary boldnesse went, 
And smote him on the knee that never 
yet was bent. 



It never yet was bent, ne bent it now, 
Albe the stroke so strong and puissant 

were, 
That seem'd a marble pillour it could bow ; 
But all that leg, which did his body beare, 
It crackt throughout, (yet did no bloud 

appeare,) 
So as it was miable to support 
So huge a burden on such broken geare. 
But fell to ground, like to a lumpe of 

durt; 
Whence he assayd to rise, but could not 

for his hurt. 

XVII. 

Ef tsoones the Prince to him full nimbly 

stept. 
And least he should recover foote againe, 
His head meant from his shoulders to 

have swept. 
Which when the Lady saw, she cryde 

amaine ; 
' Stay, stay. Sir Knight ! for love of God 

abstaine 
From that unwares ye weetlesse doe in- 
tend ; 
Slay not that Carle, though worthy to be 

slaine. 
For more on him doth then him selfe 

depend : 
My life will by his death have lamentable 

end.' 

XVIII. 

He staide his hand according her desire, 
Yet nathemore him suffred to arize ; 
But, still suppressing, gan of her inquire, 
AVhat meaning mote those uncouth words 

comprize, 
That in that villaines health her safety 

lies ; 
That, were no might in man, nor heart in 

Knights, 
Which durst her dreaded reskue enter- 
prize, 



Yet heavens them selves, that favour 

feeble rights. 
Would for it selfe redresse, and punish 

such despights. 



Then bursting forth in teares, which 
gushed fast 
Like many water streames, awhile she 

stayd ; 
Till the sharpe passion being overpast, 
Her tongue to her restord, then thus she 

sayd : 
'Nor heavens, nor men, can me, most 

wretched mayd, 
Deliver from the doome of my desart. 
The which the God of love hath on me 

layd, 
And damned to endure this direfull smart, 
For penaunce of my proud and hard re- 
bellious hart. 



* In prime of youthly yeares, when first 

the tiowre 
Of beauty gan to bud, and bloosme de- 
light. 
And Nature me endu'd with plenteous 

dowre 
Of all her gifts, that pleasde each living 

sight, 
I was belov'd of many a gentle Knight, 
Ajid sude and sought with all the service 

dew: 
Full many a one for me deepe groand and 

sight. 
And to the dore of death for sorrow drew, 
ComplajTiing out on me that would not 

on them rew. 



' But let them love that list, or live or 

die. 
Me list not die for any lovers doole ; 
Ne list me leave my loved libertie 
To pitty him that list to play the foole : 
To love my selfe I learned had in schoole. 
Thus I triumphed long in lovers paine, 
And, sitting carelesse on the scorners 

stoole. 
Did laugh at those that did lament and 

plaine : 
But all is now repayd with interest againe. 



' For loe ! the winged God that woundeth 

harts 
Causde me be called to accompt therefore ; 
And for revengement of those wrongfull 

smarts, 



498 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Which I to others did inflict afore, 
Addeem'd ine to endure this peuaunce 

sore; 
That in this wize, and this unmeete array, 
With these two lewd companions, and no 

more, 
Disdaiue and Scorne, I through the world 

should stray, 
Till I have sav'd so many as I earst did 

slay.' 

XXIII. 

'Certes,' (sayd then the Prince) 'the 

God is just. 
That taketh vengeaunce of his peoples 

spoile ; 
For were no law in love, but all that lust 
Might them oppresse, and painefully tur- 

moile. 
His kingdome would continue but a while. 
But tell me, Lady, wherefore doe you 

beare 
This bottle thus before you with such toile. 
And eeke this wallet at your backe 

arreare, 
That for these Carles to carry much more 

comely were ? ' 



' Here in this bottle ' (sayd the sory Mayd) 
' I put the tears of my contrition. 
Till to the brim I have it full defrayd : 
And in this bag, which I behinde me 

don, 
I put repentaunce for things past and gon. 
Yet is the bottle leake, and bag so torne, 
That all which I put in fals out anon, 
And is behinde me trodden downe of 

Scorne, 
Who mocketh all my paine, and laughs 

the more I mourn.' 

XXV. 

The Infant hearkned wisely to her tale, 
And wondred much at Cupids judg'ment 

wise, 
That could so meekly make proud hearts 

avale. 
And wreake him selfe on them that him 

despise. 
Then suffred he Disdaine up to arise, 
Who was not able up him selfe to reare, 
By meanes his leg, through his late lucke- 

lesse prise. 
Was crackt in twaine, but by his foolish 

feare 
Was holpen up, who him supported stand- 
ing neare. 

XXVI. 

But being up he lookt againe aloft, 
As if he never had received fall ; 



And with sterne eye-browes stared at him 

oft, 
As if he would have daunted him withall : 
And standing on his tiptoes, to seeme tall, 
Downe on his golden feete he often gazed, 
As if such pride the other could apall ; 
Who was so far from being ought amazed, 
That he his lookes despised, and his boast 

dispraized. 

XXVII. 

Then turning backe unto that captive 

thrall. 
Who all this while stood there beside them 

bound. 
Unwilling to be knowne or scene at all. 
He from those bands weend him to have 

unwound ; 
But when approaching neare he plainely 

found 
It was his owue true groome, the gentle 

Squire, 
He thereat wext exceedingly astound. 
And him did oft embrace, and oft admire, 
Ne could with seeing satisfie his great 

desire. 

XXVIII. 

Meane-while the Salvage man, when he 

beheld 
That huge great foole oppressing th' other 

Knight, 
Whom with his weight unweldy downe he 

held, 
He flew upon him like a greedy kight 
Unto some carrion offered to his sight; 
And, downe him plucking, with his nayles 

and teeth 
Gan him to hale, and teare, and scratch, 

and bite; 
And, from him taking his owne whip, 

therewith 
So sore him scourgeth that the bloud 

downe followeth. 

XXIX. 

And sure I weene, had not the Ladies 

cry 
Procur'd the Prince his cruell hand to 

stay. 
He would with whipping him have done to 

dye; 
But being checkt he did abstaine streight- 

way. 
And let him rise. Tlien thus the Prince 

gan say: 
' Now, Lady, sith your fortunes thus dis- 
pose, 
That if ye list have liberty ye may ; 
Unto your selfe I freely leave to chose. 
Whether I shall you leave, or from these 

villaines lose.' 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



499 



'Ah! nay, Sir Knight,' (said she) 'it 
may not be, 

But that I needes must by all meanes ful- 
fill 

This peuaunce, which enjoyned is to me, 

Least unto me betide a greater ill ; 

Yet no lesse thankes to you lor your good 
will.' 

So humbly taking leave she turnd aside ; 

But Arthure with the rest went onward 
still 

On his first quest, in which did him betide 

A great adventure, which did him from 
them devide. 

XXXI. 

But first it falleth me by course to tell 
Of faire Serena ; who, as earst you heard, 
AVheu first the gentle Squire at variaunce 

fell 
With those two Carles, fled fast away, 

afeard 
Of villauy to be to her inferd : 
So fresh the image of her former dread, 
Yet dwelling in her eye, to her appeard, 
That every foote did tremble which did 

tread. 
And every body two, and two she foure 

did read. 

XXXII. 

Through hils and dales, through bushes 

and through breres. 
Long thus she fled, till that at last she 

thought 
Her selfe now past the perill of her feares : 
Then looking round about, and seeing 

nought 
Which doubt of daunger to her offer 

mought, 
She from her palfrey lighted on the plaine ; 
And, sitting downe, her selfe awliile be- 
thought 
Of her long travell and turmoyling 

paine ; 
And often did of love, and oft of lucke 

complaine. 



And evermore she blamed Calepine, 
The good Sir Calepine, her owne true 

Knight, 
As th' onely author of her wofull tine ; 
For being of his love to her so light. 
As her to leave in such a piteous plight : 
Yet never Turtle truer to his make. 
Then he was tride unto his Lady bright; 
Who all this while endured for her sake 
Great perill of his life, and restlesse paines 

did take. 



Tho when as all her plaints she had dis- 

playd, 
And well disburdened her engrieved 

brest. 
Upon the grasse her selfe adowne she 

layd; 
Where, being tyrde with travell, and op- 

prest 
With sorrow, she betooke her selfe to rest r 
There whilest in Morpheus bosome safe 

she lay, 
Fearelesse of ought that mote her peace 

molest, 
False Fortune did her safety betray 
Unto a strange mischauncethat menac'd 

her decay. 

XXXV. 

In these wylde deserts where she now 

abode. 
There dwelt a salvage nation, which did 

live 
Of stealth and spoile, and making nightly 

rode 
Into their neighbours borders ; ne did give 
Then) selves to any trade, (as for to drive 
The painefuU plough, or cattell for to 

breed. 
Or by adventrous marchandize to thrive,) 
But on the labours of poore men to feed. 
And serve their owne necessities with 

others need. 



Thereto they usde one most accursed 

order. 
To eatc the flesh of men whom they mote 

fynde, 
And straungersto devoure, which on their 

border 
Were brought by errour or by wreckfuU 

wynde ; 
A monstrous cruelty gainst course of 

kynde! 
They, towards evening wandering every 

way 
To seeke for booty, came by fortune 

blynde 
Whereas this Lady, like a sheepe astray. 
Now drowned in the depth of sleepe all 

fearelesse lay. 

xxxvii. 

Soone as they spide her. Lord ! what 

gladfull glee 
They made amongst them selves; but 

when her face 
Like the faire yvory shining tliey did see, 
Each gan his fellow solace and embrace 



500 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



For joy of such good hap by heavenly 

grace. 
Then gan they to devize what course to 

take; 
Whether to slay her there upon the place, 
Or suffer her out of her sleepe to wake, 
And then her eate attonce, or many meales 

to make. 

XXXVIII. 

The best advizement was, of bad, to let 

her 
Sleepe out her fill without encomberment ; 
For sleepe, they sayd, would make her 

battill better : 
Then when she wakt they all gave one 

consent 
That, since by grace of God she there was 

sent, 
Unto their God they would her sacrifize. 
Whose share, her guiltlesse bloud, they 

would present; 
But of her dainty flesh they did devize 
To make a common feast, and feed with 

gurmandize. 

XXXIX. 

So round about her they them selves 

did place 
Upon the grasse, and diversely dispose 
As each thought best to spend the lingring 

space : 
Some with their eyes the daintest morsels 

chose ; 
Some praise her paps ; some praise her lips 

and nose ; 
Some whet their knives, and strip their 

elboes bare: 
The Priest him selfe a garland doth com- 
pose 
Of finest flowers, and with full busie care 
His bloudy vessels wash, and holy fire 

prepare. 

XL. 

The Damzell wakes; then all attonce 

upstart. 
And round about her flocke, like many 

flies. 
Whooping and hallowing on every part. 
As if they would have rent the brasen 

skies. 
Which when she sees with ghastly grieiful 

eies, 
Her heart does quake, and deadly pallied 

hew 
Benumbes her cheekes: Then out aloud 

she cries. 
Where none is nigh to lieare what will her 

rew, 
"And rends her golden locks, and snowy 

brests embrew. 



But all bootes not ; they hands upon her 

lay: 
And first they spoile her of her jewelt 

deare. 
And afterwards of all her rich array ; 
The which amongst them they in peeces 

teare, 
And of the pray each one a part doth 

beare. 
Now being naked, to their sordid eyes 
The goodly threasures of nature ap- 

peare : 
Which as they view with lustful! fanta- 

syes. 
Each wisheth to him selfe, and to the rest 

envyes : — 

XLII. 

Her yvorie neck ; her alablaster brest ; 
Her paps, which like white silken pillowes 

were 
For love in soft delight thereon to rest ; 
Her tender sides; her bellie white and 

clere, 
Which like an Altar did itselfe uprere 
To offer sacrifice divine thereon ; 
Her goodly thighes, whose glorie did ap- 

peare 
Like a triumphal Arch, and thereupon 
The spoiles of Princes hang'd which were 

in battel won. 

XLIII. 

Those daintie parts, the dearliugs of de- 
light. 
Which mote not be prophan'd of common 

eyes. 
Those villeins view'd with loose lascivious 

sight, 
And closely tempted with their craftie 

spyes ; 
And some of them gan mongst themselves 

devize 
Thereof by force to take their beastly 

pleasure : 
But them the Priest rebuking did advize 
To dare not to pollute so sacred threasure 
Vow'd to the gods : religion held even 

theeves in measure. 



So, being stayd, they her from thence 

directed 
Unto a litle grove not farre asyde, 
In which an altar shortly they erected 
To slay her on. And now the Eventyde 
His brode black wings had through the 

heavens wyde 
By this dispred, that was the tyme or- 

dayned 



CANTO VIII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



501 



Forsuchadismalldeed,tlieirgailttohyde: 
Of few greeue turfes au altar soone they 

fayned, 
And deckt it all with flowres which they 

nigh hand obtayned. 

Tho,when as all things readie were 

aright, 
Tlie Damzell was before the altar set, 
Being alreadie dead with fearefull fright: 
To whom the Priest with naked amies full 

net 
Approching nigh, and murdrous knife 

well whet, 
Gan mutter close a certaine secret charme, 
"With other divelish ceremonies met : 
Which doen, he gan aloft t'advance his 

arme. 
Whereat they shouted all, and made a 

loud alarme. 



Then gan the bagpj^pes and the homes 

to shrill 
And shrieke aloud, that, with the peoples 

voyce 
Confused, did the ayre with terror fill. 
And made the wood to tremble at the 

noyce : 
The whyles she wayld, the more they did 

rejoyce. 
Now mote ye understand that to this 

grove 
Sir Calepine, by chaunce more then by 

choyce. 
The selfe same evening fortune hether 

drove, 
As he to seeke Serena through the woods 

did rove. 

XLVII. 

Long had he sought her, and through 

many a soyle 
Had traveld still on foot in heavie amies, 
Ne ought was tyred with his endlesse 

toyle, 
Ne ought was feared of his certaine 

harmes : 
And now, all weetlesse of the wretched 

stormes, 
In which his love was lost, he slept full 

fast; 
Till, being waked with these loud alarmes. 
He lightly started up like one aghast. 
And, catching up his arms, streight to 

the noise forth past. 



There by th' uncertaine glims of starry 
night, 



And, by the twinkling of their sacred fire. 
He mote perceive a litle dawning sight 
Of all which there was doing in that quire : 
Mongst whom a woman spoyld of all at- 
tire 
He spyde lamenting lierunluckie strife, 
And groning sore from grieved hart entire: 
Eftsoones he saw one with a naked knife 
Readie to launch her brest, and let out 
loved life. 

XLIX. 

With that he thrusts into the thickest 

throng 
And, even as his right hand adowne de- 
scends. 
He him preventing layes on earth along, 
And sacrifizeth to th' infernall feends : 
Then to the rest his wrathfull hand he 

bends ; 
Of whom he makes such havocke and 

such hew, 
That swarmes of damned soules to hell he 

sends : 
The rest, that scape his sword and death 

eschew. 
Fly like a flocke of doves before a Faul- 

cons vew. 

L. 

From them returning to that Ladie 

backe, 
Whom by the Altar he doth sitting find 
Yet fearing death, and next to death the 

lacke 
Of clothes to cover what they ought by 

kind, 
He first her hands beginneth to unbind, 
And then to question of her present woe, 
And afterwards to cheare with speaches 

kind ; 
But she, for nought that he could say or 

doe, 
One word durst speake, or answere him 

a whit thereto. 



So inward shame of her uncomely case 
She did conceive, through care of woman- 
hood, 
That though the night did cover her dis- 
grace. 
Yet she in so unwomanly a mood 
Would not bewray the state in which she 

stood . 
So all that night to him unknowen she 

past ; 
But day, that doth discover bad and good, 
Ensewing, made her knowen to him at 

last : 
The end whereof He keepe untill another 
cast. 



502 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



CANTO IX. 

Calidore hostes with Mellboe, 
And loves fayre Pastorell : 

Coridon envies him, yet he 
For ill rewards him well. 



Now turne againe my teme, thou jolly 
swayue, 
Backe to the furrow which I lately left. 
1 lately left a furrow, one or twayne, 
Uuplough'd, the which niy coulter hath 

not cleft ; 
Yet seem'd the soyle hoth fayre aud frute- 

f ull eft, 
As I it past : that were too great a shame, 
Th'at so rich frute should be from us he- 
reft ; 
Besides the great dishonour and defame, 
Which should befall to Calidores imnior- 
tall name. 

II. 

Great travell hath the gentle Calidore 
And toyle endured, sith I left him last 
Sewing the Blatant Beast ; which I forbore 
To finish then, for other present hast. 
Full many pathes and perils he hath past, 
Through hils, through dales, through for- 
ests, and through plaines, 
In that same quest which fortune on him 

cast. 
Which he atchieved to his owne great 

gaines. 
Reaping eternall gloria of his restlesse 
paines. 

III. 

So sharply he the Monster did pursew, 
That day nor night he suffred him to 

rest, 
Ne rested he himselfe, but natures dew, 
For dread of daunger not to be redrest. 
If he for slouth forslackt so famous quest. 
Him first from court he to the citties 

coursed. 
And from the citties to the townes him 

prest. 
And from the townes into the countrie 

forsed. 
And from the country back to private 

f amies he scorsed. 



From thence into the open fields he fled, 
Whereas the Heardes were keeping of 

their neat, 
And shepherds singing to their flockes 

(that fed) 



Layes of sweete love and youthes delight- 
full heat: 

Him thether eke, for all his fearefull 
threat. 

He followed fast, aud chaced him so nie, 

That to the folds, where sheepe at night 
doe seat, 

And to the little cots, where shepherds 
lie 

In winters wrathfull time, he forced him 
to flie. 

V. 

There on a day, as he pursew'd the 
chace, 

He chaunst to spy a sort of shepheard 
groomes, 

Playing on pipes and caroling apace, 

The whyles their beasts there in the bud- 
ded broomes 

Beside them fed, and nipt the tender 
bloomes ; 

For other worldly wealth they cared 
nought. 

To whom Sir Calidore yet sweating comes. 

And them to tell him courteously be- 
sought. 

If such a beast they saw, which he had 
thether brought. 



They answer'd him that no such beast 

they saw, 
Nor any wicked feend that mote offend 
Their happie flockes, nor daunger to them 

draw ; 
But if that such there were (as none they 

kend) 
They prayd high God them farre from i 

them to send. 
Then one of them, him seeing so to: 

sweat. 
After his rusticke wise, that well he- 

weend, 
Offred him drinke to quench his thirstiei 

heat, 
And, if he hungry were, him offred eke tO' 

eat. 

VII. 

The knight was nothing nice, where waS! 

no need, 

Aud tooke their gentle offer : so adowne' 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



503 



They prayd him sit, and gave him for to 

feed 
Such homely what as serves the simple 

clowne, 
That doth despise the dainties of the 

towne. 
Tho, having fed his fill, he there besyde 
Saw a faire damzell, which did wears a 

crowne 
Of sundry Howres with silken ribbands 

tyde, 
Yclad in home-made greene that her own 

hands had dyde. 

VIII. 

Upon a litle hillocke she was placed 
Higher then all the rest, and round about 
Environ 'd with a girland, goodly graced, 
Of lovely lasses : and them all without 
The lustie shepheard swaynes sate in a 

rout, 
The which did pype and sing her prayses 

dew, 
And oft rejoyce, and oft for wonder shout. 
As if some miracle of heavenly hew 
Were downe to them descended in that 

earthly vew. 

IX. 

And soothly sure she was full fayre of 

face. 
And perfectly well shapt in every lim, 
Which she did more augment with modest 

grace 
And comely carriage of her count'nance 

trim, 
That all the rest like lesser lamps did dim : 
Who, her admiring as some heavenly 

wight. 
Did for their soveraine goddesse her 

esteeme. 
And, caroling her name both day and 

night. 
The fayrest Pastorella her by name did 

hight. 

X. 

Ne was there heard, ne was there shep- 

heards swayne, 
But her did honour; and eke many a 

one 
Burnt in her love, and with sweet pleasing 

payne 
Full many a night for her did sigh and 

grone : 
But most of all the shepheard Coridon 
For her did languish, and his deare life 

spend ; 
Yet neither she for him nor other none 
Did care a whit, ne any liking lend : 
Though meane her lot, yet higher did her 

mind ascend, 



XI. 

Her whyles Sir Calidore there vewed 

well. 
And markt her rare demeanure, which 

him seemed 
So farre the meane of shepheards to excell, 
As that he in his mind her worthy deemed 
To be a Princes Paragone esteemed, 
He was uuwares surprisd in subtile bands 
Of the blynd boy ; ne thence could be 

redeemed 
By any skill out of his cruell hands; 
Caught lil^e the bird which gazing still on 

others stands. 



So stood he still long gazing thereupon, 
Ne any will had thence to move away. 
Although his quest were farre afore him 

gon: 
But after he had fed, yet did he stay 
And sate there still, uiitill the flying day 
Was farre forth spent, discoursingdiversly 
Of sundry things as fell, to worke delay; 
And evermore his speach he did apply 
To th' beards, but meant them to thedam- 
zels fantazy. 



By thifi the moystie night approching 

fast 
Her deawy humour gan on th' earth to 

shed, 
That warn'd the shepheards to their homes 

to hast 
Their tender flocks, now being fully 

fed. 
For feare of wetting them before their 

bed. 
Then came to them a good old aged syre, 
W^hose silver lockes bedeckt his beard "and 

bed, 
AVith shepheards hooke in hand, and fit 

at tyre. 
That wild the damzell rise ; the day did 

now expyre. 



He was, to weet, by common voice es- 
teemed 

The father of the fayrest Pastorell, 

And of her selfe in very deede so deemed ; 

Yet was not .so; but, as old stories tell. 

Found her by fortune, which to him befell, 

Li th' open fields an Infant left alone; 

And, taking up, brought home and noursed 
well 

As his owne chyld ; for other he had none ; 

That she in tract of time accompted was 
his owne. 



504 



THE FAERIE QUEEN E. 



[book VI. 



She at his bidding meekely did arise, 
And streight unto her litle flocke did fare : 
Then all the rest about her rose likewise, 
And each his sundrie sheepe with several! 

care 
Gathered together, and them homeward 

bare : 
Whylest everie one with helping hands did 

strive, 
Amongst themselves, and did their labours 

share. 
To helpe faire Pastorella home to drive 
Her fleecie flocke ; but Coridon most helpe 

did give. 

XVI. 

But Meliboee (so hight that good old 

man) 
Now seeing Calidore left all alone. 
And night arrived hard at hand, began 
Him to invite unto his simple home; 
Which though it were a cottage clad with 

lome. 
And all things therein meane, yet better 

so 
To lodge then in the salvage fields to rome. 
The knight full gladly soone agreed 

thereto, 
(Being his harts owne wish,) and home 

with him did go. 

XVII. 

-There he was welcora'd of that honest 
syre 
And of his aged Beldame homely well; 
Who him besought himselfe to disattyre. 
And rest himselfe till supper time be- 
fell ; 
By which home came the fayrest Pastorell, 
After her flocke she in their fold had 

tyde: 
And supper readie dight they to it fell 
With small adoe, and nature satisfyde, 
The which doth litle crave contented to 
abyde. 

XVIII. 

Tho when they had their hunger slaked 

well. 
And the fayre mayd the table ta'neaway. 
The gentle knight, as he that did excell 
III courtesie and well could doe and say, 
For so great kindnesse as he found that 

day 
(ran greatly thanke his host and his good 

wife; 
And drawing thence his speach another 

way, 
Gan highly to commend the happie life 
AVhi(;h Shepheards lead, without debate or 

bitter strife. 



XIX. 

* How much ' (sayd he) ' more happie is 
the state 
In which ye, father, here doe dwell at ease, 
Leading a life so free and fortunate 
From all the tempests of these worldly 

seas. 
Which tosse the rest in daungerous dis- 
ease ; 
Where warres, and wreckes, and wicked 

enmitie 
Doe them afflict, which no man can ap- 
pease ; 
That certes I your happinesse envie. 
And wish my lot were plast in such feli- 
citie.' 

XX. 

'Surely, my sonne,' (then answer'd he 
againe) 
' If happie, then it is in this intent. 
That having small yet doe I notcomplaine 
Of want, ne wish for more it to augment. 
But doe my selfe with that I have content ; 
So taught of nature, which doth litle need 
Of forreine helpes to lifes due nourish- 
ment: 
The fields my food, my flocke my ray- 
men t breed ; 
No better doe I weare, no better doe I feed. 



' Therefore I doe not any one envy, 
Nor am envyde of any one therefore : 
They, that have much, feare much to 

loose thereby, 
And store of cares doth follow riches store. 
The litle that I have growes dayly more 
Without my care, but onely to attend 

it; 
My lambes doe every yeare increase their 

score. 
And my flockes father daily doth amend it. 
What have I, but to praise th' Almighty 

that doth send it ! 



' To them that list the worlds gay showes 
I leave. 

And to great ones such follies doe for- 
give; 

Which oft through pride do their owne 
perill weave, 

And through ambition downe themselves 
doe drive 

To sad decay, that might contented live. 

Me no such cares nor combrous thoughts 
offend, 

Ne once my minds unmoved quiet grieve ; 

But all the night in silver sleepe I spend, 

And all the day to what I list I doe attend. 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



505 



* Sometimes I hunt the Fox, the vowed 

foe 
Unto my Lambes, and him dislod^je away ; 
Sometime the fawne I practise from the 

Doe, 
Or from the Goat her kidde, how to con- 

vay: 
Another while I baytes and nets display 
The birds to catch, or fishes to beguyle ; 
And when I wearie am, I downe doe lay 
My limbes in every shade to rest from 

toyle, 
And drinke of every brooke when thirst 

my throte doth boyle. 



' The time was once, in my first prime 

of yeares, 
When pride of youth forth pricked my 

desire, 
That I disdain'd amongst mine equall 

peares 
To follow sheepe and shepheards base 

attire : 
For further fortune then I would inquire ; 
And , leaving home, to roiall court I sought, 
Where I did sell my selfe for yearely 

hire. 
And in the Princes gardin daily wrought : 
There I beheld such vaiuenesse as I 

never thought. 



* With sight whereof soone cloyd, and 

long deluded 
With idle hopes which them 'doe enter- 

taine. 
After I had ten yeares my selfe excluded 
From native home, and "spent my youth 

in vaine, 
I gan my follies to my selfe to plaine, 
And this sweet peace, whose lacke did 

then appeare : 
Tho, backe returning to my sheepe againe, 
I from thenceforth have'learu'd to love 

more deare 
This lowly quiet life which I inherite here.' 



Wliylest thus he talkt, the knight with 

greedy eare 
Hong still upon his melting mouth attent ; 
Whose sensefull words empierst his hart 

so neare, 
That he was rapt with double ravishment, 
Both of his speach, that wrought him 

great content, 
And also of the object of his vew, 
On which his hungry eye was alwayes bent ; 



That twixt his pleasing tongue, and her 

faire hew. 
He lost himselfe, and like one halfe eu- 

traunced grew. 

XXVII. 

Yet to occasion meanes to worke his 

mind. 
And to insinuate his harts desire, 
He thus replyde: 'Now surely, syre, I 

find, 
That all this worlds gay showes, which 

we admire. 
Be but vaine shadowes to this safe retyre 
Of life, which here in lowlinesse ye lead, 
Fearelesse of foes, or fortunes wrackfull 

yre 
Which tosseth states, and under foot 

doth tread 
The mightie ones, affrayd of every 

chaunges dread. 

xxviii. 

' That even I, which daily doe behold 
The glorie of the great mongst whom I 

won , 
And now have prov'd what happinesse ye 

hold 
In this small plot of your dominion, 
Now loath great Lordship and ambition ; 
And wish th' heavens so much had graced 

mee. 
As graunt me live in like condition ; 
Or that my fortunes might transposed 

bee 
From pitch of higher place unto this low 

degree.' 

XXIX. 

' In vaine ' (said then old Meliboe) ' doe 

men 
The heavens of their fortunes fault 

accuse, 
Sith they know best what is the best for 

them ; 
For they to each such fortune doe diffuse, 
As they doe know each can most aptly 

use : 
For not that which men covet most is 

best, 
Nor that thing worst which men do most 

refuse ; 
But fittest is, that all contented rest 
With that they hold : each hath his for- 
tune in his brest. 



' It is the mynd that maketh good or 
ill. 
That maketh wretch or happie, rich or 

poore ; 



5o6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



For some, that liath abundance at his 

will, 
Hath not enough, but wants in greatest 

store. 
And other, that hath litle, askes no 

more, 
But in that litle is both rich and wise ; 
For wisedome is most riches: fooles 

therefore 
They are which fortunes doe by vowes 

devize, 
Sith each unto himselfe his life may 

fortunize.' 

XXXI. 

' Since then in each mans self ' (said 

Calidore) 
' It is to fashion his owne lyfes estate. 
Give leave awhyle, good father, in this 

shore 
To rest my barcke, which hath bene 

beaten late 
With stormes of fortune and tempestuous 

fate 
In seas of troubles and of toylesome 

paiue ; 
That, whether quite from them for to re- 

trate 
I shall resolve, or backe to turne againe, 
I may here with your selfe some small 

repose obtaine. 

XXXII. 

' Not that the burden of so bold a gue&t 
Shall chargefull be, or chaunge to you at 

all; 
For your meane food shall be my daily 

feast, 
And this your cabin both my bowre and 

hall: 
Besides, for recompence hereof I shall 
You well reward, and golden guerdon 

give. 
That may perhaps you better much with- 

all, 
And in this quiet make you safer live.' 
So forth he drew much gold, and toward 

him it drive. 

XXXIII. 

But the good man, nought tempted with 

the offer 
Of his rich mould, did thrust it farre 

away, 
And thus bespake : ' Sir knight, your 

bounteous proffer 
Be farre fro me, to whom ye ill display 
That mucky masse, the cause of mens 

decay, 
That mote empaire my peace with daun- 

gers dread ; 



But, if ye algates covet to assay 

This simple sort of life that shepheards 

lead, 
Be it your owne : our rudenesse to your 

selfe aread.' 

XXXIV. 

So there that night Sir Calidore did 

dwell. 
And long while after, whilest him list 

remaine, 
Dayly beholding the faire Pastorell, 
And feeding on the bayt of his owne 

bane : 
During which time he did her entertaine 
With all kind courtesies he could invent; 
And every day, her companie to gaine, 
When to the field she went he with her 

went : 
So for to quench his fire he did it more 

augment. 

XXXV, 

But she that never had acquainted 
beene 
With such queint usage, fit for Queenes 

and Kings, 
Ne ever had such knightly service scene, 
But, being bred under base shepheards 

wings. 
Had ever learn'd to love the lowly things, 
Did litle whit regard his courteous guize, 
But cared more for Colins carolings" 
Then all that he could doe, or ever de- 
vize : 
His layes, his loves, his lookes, she did 
them all despize. 



Which Calidore perceiving, thought it 

best 
To chaunge the manner of his loftie 

looke ; 
And doffing his bright armes himselfe 

addrest 
In shepheards weed ; and in his hand he 

tooke, 
Instead of steele-head speare, a shep- 
heards hooke; 
That who had scene him then, would 

have bethought 
On Phrygian Paris by Plexippus brooke. 
When he the love of fayre Oenone sought, 
What time the golden apple was unto him 

brought. 

XXXVII. 

So being clad unto the fields he went 
With the faire Pastorella every day. 
And kept her sheepe with diligent attent, 
Watching to drive the ravenous Wolfe 
away, 



CANTO IX.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



507 



The whylest at pleasure she mote sport 

aud play; 
And every evening helping them to fold : 
And otherwhileSj for need, he did assay 
In his strong hand their rugged teats to 

hold, 
And out of them to presse the milke : 

love so much could. 

XXXVIII. 

Which seeing Coridon, who her like- 
wise 
Long time had lov'd, aud hop'd her love 

to gaine, 
He much was troubled at that straungers 

guize, 
And many gealous thoughts conceiv'd in 

vaine, 
That this of all his labour and long paine 
Should reap the harvest ere it ripened 

were : 
That made him scoule, and pout, and oft 

complaine 
Of Pastorell to all the shepheards there, 
That she did love a stranger swayne then 

him more dere. 

XXXIX. 

And ever, when he came in companie 
Where Calidore was present, he would 

loure 
Aud byte his lip, and even for gealousie 
Was readie oft his owne heart to devoure. 
Impatient of any paramoure : 
Who, on the other side, did seeme so 

farre 
From malicing, or grudging his good 

houre, 
That all he could he graced him with her, 
Ne ever shewed signe of rancour or of 

Jarre. 

XL. 

And oft, when Coridon unto her brought 
Or litle sparrowes stolen from their nest. 
Or wanton squirrels in the woods farre 

sought. 
Or other daintie thing for her addrest, 
He would commend his guift, aud make 

the best; 
Yet she no whit his presents did regard, 
Ne him could find to fancie in her brest : 
This new-come shepheard had his market 

mard. 
Old love is litle worth when new is more 

prefard. 

XLI. 

One day , when as the shepheard swaynes 
together 
Were met to make their sports and merrie 
glee, 



As they are wont in faire sunshynie 

weather. 
The whiles their flockes in shadowes 

shrouded bee, 
They fell to daunce: theu did they all 

agree 
That Colin Clout should pipe, as one most 

fit; 
And Calidore should lead the ring, as 

hee 
That most in Pastorellaes grace did sit : 
Thereat frown 'd Coridon, and his lip 

closely bit. 

XLII. 

But Calidore, of courteous inclination, 
Tooke Coridon and set him in his place. 
That he should lead the daunce, as was 

his fashion ; 
For Coridou could daunce, and trimly 

trace : 
And when as Pastorella, him to grace, 
Her flowry garlond tooke from her owne 

head, 
And plast on his, he did it soone displace, 
And did it put on Coridous instead : 
Then Coridon woxe frollicke, that earst 

seemed dead. 



Another time, when as they did dispose 
To practise games and maisteries to 

try, 

They for their Judge did Pastorella chose ; 
A garland was the meed of victory: 
There Coridon forth stepping openly 
Did chalenge Calidore to wrestling "game; 
For he, through long and perfect industiy. 
Therein well practisd was, and in the 

same 
Thought sure t' avenge his grudge, and 

worke his foe great shame. 



But Calidore he greatly did mistake. 
For he was strong and mightily stiffe 

pight. 
That with one fall his necke he almost 

brake ; 
And had he not upon him fallen light. 
His dearest joynt he sure had broken 

quight. 
Then was the oaken crowne by Pastorell 
Given to Calidore as his due right; 
But he, that did in courtesio excell, 
Gave it to Coridon, and said he wonne it 

well. 

XLV. 

Thus did the gentle knight himselfe 
abeare 



mmmmmm 



508 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Amongst that rusticke rout in all his 
deeds, 

That even they, the which his rivals were, 

Could not maligna him, but commend him 
needs; 

For courtesie amongst the rudest breeds 

Good will and favour. So it surely- 
wrought 

With this faire Mayd, and in her mynde 
the seeds 

Of perfect love did sow, that last forth 
brought 

The fruite of joy and blisse, though long 
time dearely bought. 



Thus Calidore continu'd there long time 
To wiune the love of the faire Pastorell, 
Which having got, he used without crime 
Or blamefull plot ; but menaged so well, 
That he, of all the rest which there did 

dwell. 
Was favoured and to her grace com- 
mended. 
But what straunge fortunes unto him be- 
fell, 
Ere he attain'd the point by him intended, 
Shall more conveniently in other place be 
ended. 



CANTO X. 

Calidore sees the Graces daunce 

To Colin s nielodj- ; 
The whiles his Pastorell is led 

Into captivity. 



Who now does follow the foule Blatant 
Beast, 
Whilest Calidore does follow that faire 

Mayd, 
UnmyndfuU of his vow, and high beheast 
Which by the Faery Queene was on him 

layd. 
That he should never leave, nor be delayd 
From chafing him, till he had it at- 

tchieved ? 
But now, entrapt of love, which him be- 
tray d, 
He mindeth more how he may be relieved 
With grace from her, whose love his heart 
hath sore eugrieved. 

II. 

That from henceforth he meanes no 

nior.' to sew 
His former quest, so full of toile and paine : 
Another quest, another game in vew 
He hath, the guerdon of his love to gaine ; 
With whom he myndes for ever to re- 

maine. 
And set his rest amongst the rusticke sort, 
Rather then hunt still after shadowes vaine 
Of courtly favour, fed with light report 
Of evei-y blaste, and say ling alwaies in 

the port. 

HI. 

Ne certes mote he greatly blamed be 
From so high step to stoupe unto so low ; 
For who had tasted once (as oft did he) 
The happy peace which there doth over- 
flow. 
And prov'd the perfect pleasures which 
doe grow 



Amongst poore hyndes, in hils, in woods, 

in dales. 
Would never more delight in painted show 
Of such false blisse, as there is set for 

stales 
T' entrap unwary fooles in their eternall 

bales. 

IV. 

For what hath all that goodly glorious 

gaze 
Like to one sight which Calidore did vew ? 
The giaunce whereof their dimmed eies 

would daze. 
That never more they should endure the 

shew 
Of that sunue-shine that makes them 

looke askew : 
Ne ought, in all that world of beauties 

rare, 
(Save onely Glorianaes heavenly hew. 
To which what can compare ?) can it com- 
pare; 
The which, as commeth now by course, I 

will declare. 



One day, as he did raunge the fields 
abroad, 

Whilest liis faire Pastorella was else- 
where. 

He chaunst to come, far from all peoples 
troad. 

Unto a place whose pleasaunce did appere 

To passe all others on the earth which 
were: 

For all that ever was by natures skill 

Devized to worke delight was gathered 
there, 

And there by her were poured forth at fill, 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



509 



As if, this to adorne, slie all the rest did 
pill. 

VI. 

It was an hill plaste in an open plaine, 
That round about was bordered with a 

wood 
Of matchlesse hight, that seem'd th' earth 

to disdaine ; 
In which all trees of honour stately stood, 
And did all winter as in somnier bud, 
Spredding pavilions for the birds to bowre, 
Which in their lower braunches sung 

aloud ; 
And in their tops the soring hauke did 

towre, 
Sitting like King of fowles in majesty and 

powre : 

VII. 

And at the foote thereof a gentle flud 
His silver waves did softly tumble downe, 
Unmard with ragged mosse or lilthy 

mud ; 
Ne mote wylde beastes, ne mote the ruder 

clowne. 
Thereto approch ; ne filth mote therein 

drowne: 
But Nymphes and Faeries by the bancks 

did sit 
In the woods shade which did the waters 

crowne. 
Keeping all noysome things away from it. 
And to the waters fall tuning their ac- 
cents fit. 

VIII. 

And on the top thereof a spacious plaine 
Did spred it selfe, to serve to all delight. 
Either to daunce, when they to daunce 

would faine, 
Or else to course about their bases light; 
Ne ought there wanted which for pleasure 

might 
Desired be, or thence to banish bale. 
So pleasauntly the hill Mith equall hight 
Did seeme to overlooke the lowly vale ; 
Therefore it rightly cleeped was mount 

Acidale. 

rx. 

They say that Venus, when she did dis- 
pose 
Her selfe to pleasaunce, used to resort 
Unto this place, and therein to repose 
And rest her selfe as in a gladsome port, 
Or with the Graces there to play and 

sport ; 
That even her owne Cytheron, though in it 
She used most to keepe her royall court, 
And in her soveraine Majesty to sit, 
She in regard hereof refusde and thought 
unfit. 



Unto this place when as the Elfin Knight 
Approcht, him seemed that the merry 

sound 
Of a shrill pipe he playing heard on hight, 
And many feete fast thumping th' hollow 

ground. 
That through the woods their Eccho did 

rebound. 
He nigher drew to weete what mote it be : 
There he a troupe of Ladies dauncing 

found 
Full merrily, and making gladfuU glee. 
And in the midst a Shepheard piping he 

did see. 

XI. 

He durst not enter into th' open greene. 
For dread of them unwares to be descryde, 
For breaking of their daunce, if he were 

seene ; 
But in the covert of the wood did byde, 
Beholding all, yet of them nnespyde. 
There he did see that pleased much his 

sight, 
That even he him selfe his eyes envyde, 
An hundred naked maidens lilly white 
All raunged in a ring and dauncing in de- 
light. 

XII. 

All they without were raunged in a ring. 
And daunced round ; but in the midst of 

them 
Three other Ladies did both daunce and 

sing, 
The whilest the rest them round about did 

hemme, 
And like a girlond did in compasse 

stemme : 
And in the middest of those same three 

was placed 
Another Damzell, as a precious gemme 
Amidst a ring most richly well enchaced, 
That with her goodly presence all the rest 

much graced. 

XIII. 

Looke ! how the crowne, which Ariadne 
wore 
Upon her yvory forehead, that same day 
That Theseus her unto his bridale bore, 
When the bold Centaures made that 

bloudy fray 
With the fierce Lapithes which did them 

dismay. 
Being now placed in the firmament. 
Through the bright heaven doth her beams 

display. 
And is unto "the starres an ornament, 
Which round about her move in order ex- 
cellent. 



510 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Such was the beauty of this goodly 

band, 
Whose sundry parts were here too long to 

tell; 
But she that in the midst of them did 

stand 
Seera'd all the rest in beauty to excell, 
Crownd with a rosi6girloud that right well 
Did her beseenie : And ever, as the crew 
About her daunst, sweet flowres that far 

did smell 
And fragrant odours they uppon her 

threw ; 
But most of all those three did her with 

gifts eudew. 



Those were the Graces, daughters of 

delight, 
Handmaides of Venus, which are wont to 

haunt 
Uppon this hill, and daunce there day and 

night : 
Those three to men all gifts of grace do 

graunt ; 
And all that Venus in her selfe doth vaunt 
Is borrowed of them. But that faire one, 
That in the midst was placed paravauut, 
Was she to whom that shepheard pypt 

alone ; 
That made him pipe so merrily, as never 

none. 

XVI. 

She was, to weete, that jolly Shep- 

heards lasse, 
Which piped there unto that merry rout ; 
That jolly shepheard, which there piped, 

was 
Poore Colin Clout, (who knowes not Colin 

Clout?) 
He pypt apace, whilest they him daunst 

about. 
Pype, jolly shepheard, pype thou now 

apace 
Unto thy love that made thee low to lout : 
Thy love is present there with thee in 

place ; 
Thy love is there advaunst to be another 

Grace. 

XVII. 

Much wondred Calidore at this straunge 

sight, 
Whose like before his eye had never 

scene ; 
And standing long astonished in spright. 
And rapt with pleasaunce, wist not what 

to weene ; 
Whether it were the traine of beauties 

Queene, 



Or Nymphes, or Faeries, or enchaunted 

show, 
With which his eyes mote have deluded 

beeue. 
Therefore, resolving what it was to know, 
Out of the wood he rose, and toward them 

did go. 

XVIII. 

But, soone as he appeared to their vew, 
They vauisht all away out of his sight, 
And cleaue were gone, which way he 

never knew ; 
All save the shepheard, who, for fell de- 

spight 
Of that displeasure, broke his bag-pipe 

quight, 
And made great mone for that unhappy 

turue : 
But Calidore, though no lesse sory wight 
For that mishap, yet seeing him to mourne. 
Drew neare, that he the truth of all by 

him mote learne. 

XIX. 

And, first him greeting, thus unto him 

spake : 
' Haile, jolly shepheard, which thy joyous 

dayes 
Here leadest in this goodly merry-make. 
Frequented of these gentle Nymphes al- 

wayes, 
Which to thee flocke to heare thy lovely 

layes ! 
Tell me, what mote these dainty Damzels 

be, 
Which here with thee doe make their 

pleasant playes? 
Right happy thou that mayst them freely 

see! 
But why, when I them saw, fled they 

away from me ? ' 



' Not I so happy,' answerd then that 

swaine, 
' As thou unhappy, which them thence 

didst chace, 
Whom by no meanes thou canst recall 

againe ; 
For, being gone, none can them bring in 

place, 
But whom they of them selves list so to 

grace.' 
'Right sory I,' (saide then Sir Calidore) 
' That ray ill fortune did them hence dis- 
place ; 
But since things passed none may now 

restore, 
Tell me what were they all, whose lacke 

thee grieves so sore? ' 



CANTO X.J 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



511 



Tho gan that shepheard thus for to 

dilate: 
* Then wote, thou shepheard, whatsoever 

thou bee, 
That all those Ladies, which thou sawest 

late, 
Are Venus Damzels, all within her fee, 
But differing in honour and degree : 
They all are Graces which on her depend, 
Besides a thousand more which ready bee 
Her to adorne, when so she forth doth 

wend ; 
But those three in the midst doe chiefe on 

her attend. 

XXII. 

* They are the daughters of sky-ruling 

Jove, 
By him begot of faire Eurynome, 
The Oceans daughter, in this pleasant 

grove, 
As he, this way comming from feastfull 

glee 
Of Thetis wedding with J^^acidee, 
In sommers shade him selfe here rested 

weary : 
The first of them hight mylde Euphrosyne, 
Next faire Aglaia, last Thalia merry ; 
Sweete Goddesses all three, which me in 

mirth do cherry ! 

XXIII. 

* These three on men all gracious gifts 

bestow, 
Which decke the body or adorne the 

mynde, 
To make them lovely or well-favoured 

show ; 
As comely carriage, entertainement 

kynde, 
Sweete semblaunt, friendly offices that 

byude, 
And all the complements of curtesie : 
They teach us how to each degree and 

kynde 
We should our selves demeane, to low, to 

hie, 
To friends, to foes; which skill men call 

Civility. 

XXIV. 

' Therefore they alwaies smoothly seeme 

to smile, 
That we likewise should mylde and gentle 

be; 
And also naked are, that without guile 
Or false dissemblaunce all them plaine 

may see, 
Simple and true, from covert malice free; 
And eke them selves so in their daunce 

they bore. 



That two of them still fro ward seem'd to 

bee. 
But one still towards shew'd her selfe 

afore ; 
That good should from usgoe, then come, 

in greater store. 



' Such were those Goddesses which ye 
did see ; 
But that fourth Mayd, which there amidst 

them traced. 
Who can aread what creature mote she bee. 
Whether a creature, or a goddesse graced 
With heavenly gifts from heven first en- 
raced ? 
But what so sure she was, she worthy was 
To be the fourth with those three other 

placed : 
Yet was she certes but a countrey lasse ; 
Yet she all other countrey lasses farre 
did passe: 

XXVI. 

' So farre, as doth the daughter of the 

day 
All other lesser lights in light excell ; 
So farre doth she in beautyfull array 
Above all other lasses beare the bell ; 
Ne lesse in vertue that beseemes her well 
Doth she exceede the rest of all her race ; 
For which the Graces, that here wont to 

dwell. 
Have for more honor brought her to this 

place, 
And graced her so much to be another 

Grace. 

XXVII. 

' Another Grace she well deserves to be, 
In whom so many Graces gathered are, 
Excelling much the meane of her degree: 
Divine resemblaunce, beauty soveraine 

rare, 
Firme Chastity, that spight ne blemish 

dare : 
All which she with such courtesie doth 

grace, 
That all her peres cannot with her com- 
pare. 
But quite are dimmed when she is in 

place : 
She made me often pipe, and now to pipe 
apace. 

XXVIII. 

' Sunne of the world, great glory of the 

sky, 
That all the earth doest lighten with thy 

rayes, 
Great Gioriana, greatest Majesty! 
Pardon thy shepheard, mongst so many 

layes 



512 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



As he hath sung of thee in all his dayes, 

To make one ininime of thy poore hand- 
may d, 

And underneath thy feete to place hex* 
prayse ; 

That when thy glory shall be farre dis- 
playd 

To future age, of her this mention may be 
made ! ' 

XXIX. 

When thus that shepheard ended had 

his speach, 
Sayd Calidore : ' Now sure it yrketh mee, 
That to thy blisse I made this luckelesse 

breach, 
As now the author of thy bale to be, 
Thus to bereave thy loves deare sight 

from thee : 
But, gentle Shepheard, pardon thou my 

shame, 
Who rashly sought that which I mote not 

see.' 
Thus did the courteous Knight excuse his 

blame. 
And to recomfort him all comely meanes 

did frame. 



In such discourses they together spent 
Long time, as fit occasion forth them led ; 
With which the Knight him selfe did 

much content. 
And with delight his greedy fancy fed 
Both of his words, which he with reason 

red, 
And also of the place, whose pleasures 

rare 
With such regard his sences ravished. 
That thence he had no will away to fare, 
But wisht that with that shepheard he 

mote dwelling share. 



But that envenimd sting, the which of 

yore 
His poysnous point deepe fixed in his hart 
Had left, now gan afresh to rancle sore. 
And to renue the rigour of his smart ; 
Which to recure no.skill of Leaches art 
Mote him availe, but to returne againe 
To his wounds worker, that with lovely 

dart 
Dinting his brest had bred his restlesse 

paine ; 
Like as the wounded Whale to shore flies 

from the maine. 



So, taking leave of that same gentle 
Swaine, 



He backe returned to his rusticke wonne, 
Where his faire Pastorella did remaine : 
To whome, in sort as he at first begonne, 
He daily did apply him selfe to donne 
All dcM'full service, voide of thoughts 

impure ; 
Ne any paines ne perill did he shonne. 
By which he might her to his love allure, 
And liking in her yet untamed heart pro- 
cure. 

XXXIII. 

And evermoi-e the shepheard Coridon, 
What ever thing he did her to aggrate, 
Did strive to match with strong conten- 
tion, 
And all his paines did closely emulate ; 
Whether it were to caroll, as they sate 
Keeping their sheepe, or games to exer- 
cize. 
Or to present her with their labours late ; 
Through which if any grace chaunst to 

arize 
To him, the Shepheard streight with jeal- 
ousie did frize. 



One day, as they all three together 
went 
To the greene wood to gather strawberies, 
There chaunst to them a dangerous acci- 
dent: 
A tigre forth out of the wood did rise, 
That with fell clawes full of fierce gour- 

mandize. 
And greedy mouth wide gaping like hell- 
gate. 
Did runne at Pastorell her to surprize ; 
Whom she beliolding, now all desolate, 
Gan cry to them aloud to helpe her all 
too late. 



Which Coridon first hearing ran in hast 
To reskue her ; but, when he saw the feend, 
Through cowherd feare he fled away as 

fast, 
Ne durst abide the daunger of the end ; 
His life he steemed dearer then his frend : 
But Calidore soone comraing to her ayde. 
When he the beast saw ready now to 

rend 
His loves deare spoile, in which his heart 

was prayde, 
He ran at him enraged, instead of being 

frayde. 

XXX VI. 

He had no weapon but his shepheards 
hooke 
To serve the vengeaunce of his wrathful! 
will ; 



CANTO X.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



513 



With which so sternely he the monster 
strooke, 

That to the ground astonished he fell ; 

Whence, ere he could recou'r, he did him 
quell, 

And, hewing off his head, he it presented 

Before the feete of the faire Pastorell ; 

Who, scarceley yet from former feare ex- 
empted, 

A thousand times him thankt that had her 
death prevented. 

XXXVII. 

From that day forth she gan him to 
affect. 
And daily more her favour to augment; 
But Coridon for cowherdize reject, 
Fit to keepe sheepe, unfit for loves con- 
tent: 
The gentle heart scornes base disparage- 
ment. 
Yet Calidore did not despise him quight, 
But usde him friendly for further in- 
tent, 
That by his fellowship he colour might 
Both his estate and love from skill of any 
wight. 

XXXVIII. 

So well he wood her, and so well he 
wrought her, 
With humble service, and with daily 

sute, 
That at the last unto his will he brought 

her; 
Which he so wisely well did prosecute, 
That of his love he reapt the timely 

frute, 
And joyed long in close felicity. 
Till fortune, fraught with malice, blinde 

and brute. 
That envies lovers long prosperity, 
Blew up a bitter storme of foule adver- 
sity. 

XXXIX. 

It fortuned one day, when Calidore 
Was hunting in the woods, (as was his 

trade) 
Alawlesse people, Brigants bight of yore. 
That never usde to live by plough nor 

spade, 
But fed on spoile and booty, which they 

made 
Upon their neighbours which did nigh 

them border. 
The dwelling of these shepheards did in- 
vade. 
And spoyld their houses, and them selves 

did murder. 
And drove away their flocks ; with other 

much disorder. 



I 



Amongst the rest, the which they then 
did pray. 
They spoyld old Melibee of all he had. 
And all his people captive led away ; 
Mongst which this lucklesse mayd away 

was lad, 
Faire Pastorella, sorrowfull and sad, 
Most sorrowfull, most sad, that ever sight, 
Now made the spoile of theeves and Bri- 
gants bad, 
Which Avas the conquest of the gentlest 

Knight 
That ever liv'd, and th' onely glory of his 
might. 

XLI. 

With them also was taken Coridon, 
And carried captive by those theeves 

away ; 
Who in the covert of the night, that 

none 
Mote them descry, nor reskne from their 

pray. 
Unto their dwelling did them close con- 

vay. 
Their dwelling in a little Island was. 
Covered with shrubby woods, in which no 

way 
Appeard for people in nor out to pas, 
Nor any footing fynde for overgrowen 

gras: 

XLII. 

For underneath the ground their way 

was made 
Through hollow caves, that no man mote 

discover 
For the thicke shrubs, which did them 

alwaies shade 
From view of living wight and covered 

over; 
But darkenesse dred and daily night did 

hover 
Through all the inner parts, wherein they 

dwelt ; 
Ne lightned was with window, nor with 

lover, 
But with coutinuall candle-light, which 

delt 
A doubtfull sense of things, not so well 

scene as felt. 

XLIII. 

Hither those Brigants brought their 
present pray. 

And kept them with continuall watch and 
ward; 

Meaning, so soone as they convenient 
may, 

For slaves to sell them for no small re- 
ward 



514 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



To Merchants, which them kept in bon- 
dage hard, 

Or sold againe. Now when faire Pasto- 
rell 

Into this place was brought and kept with 
gard 

Of griesly theeves, she thought her self in 
hell. 

Where with such damned fiends she 
should in darknesse dwell. 

XLIV. 

But for to tell the dolefull dreri- 
ment 



And pittif ull complaints which there she 
made, 

Where day and night she nought did but 
lament 

Her wretched life shut up in deadly shade, 

And waste her goodly beauty, which did 
fade 

Like to a flowre that feeles no heate of 
sunne, 

Which may her feeble leaves with com- 
fort glade — 

And what befell her in that theevish 
wonne, 

AVill in another Canto better be begonne. 



CANTO XI. 

The Theeves fall out for Pastorell, 

Whilest MeHbee is slaine : 
Her Calldore from them redeemes. 
And bringeth backe againe. 



The joyes of love, if they should ever 

last 
Without affliction or disquietnesse 
That worldly chaunces doe amongst them 

cast, 
Would be on earth too great a blessed- 

nesse, 
Liker to heaven then mortall wretched- 

nesse : 
Therefore the winged God, to let men 

weet 
That here on earth is no sure happinesse, 
A thousand sowres hath tempred with 

one sweet. 
To make itseeme more deare and dainty, 

as is meet. 

II. 

Like as is now befalne to this faire 

Mayd, 
Faire Pastorell, of whom is now my song : 
Who being now in dreadfull darknesse 

layd 
Amongst those theeves, which her in 

bondage strong 
Detaynd, yet Fortune, not with all this 

wrong 
Contented, greater mischiefe on her threw. 
And sorrowes heapt on her in greater 

throng ; 
That who so heares her heavinesse, would 

rew 
And pitty her sad plight, so chang'd from 

pleasaunt hew. 



Whylest thus she in these hellish dens 
remayned, 



Wrapped in wretched cares and hearts 

unrest. 
It so befell, (as Fortune had.ordayned) 
That he which was their Capitaine profest, 
And had the chiefe commauud of all the 

rest, 
One day, as he did all his prisoners vew, 
With lustful! eyes beheld that lovely 

guest, 
Faire Pastorella, whose sad mournefull 

hew 
Like the faire Morning clad in misty fog 

did shew. 

IV. 

At sight whereof his barbarous heart 

was fired. 
And inly burnt with flames most raging 

whot, 
That her alone he for his part desired 
Of all the other pray which they had got. 
And her in mynde did to him selfe allot. 
From that day forth he kyndnesse to her 

showed, 
And sought her love by all the meanes he 

mote ; 
With looks, with words, with gifts he oft 

her wowed. 
And mixed threats among, and much 

unto her vowed. 



But all that ever he could doe or say 
Her constant mynd could not a whit re- 
move. 
Nor draw unto the lure of his lewd lay. 
To graunt him favour or afford him love : 
Yet ceast he not to sew, and all waies 
prove, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



515 



» 



By which he mote accomplish his request, 
Saying and doing all that mote behove ; 
Ne day nor night he suffred her to rest, 
But her all night did watch, and all the 
day molest. 

VI. 

At last, when him she so importune 
saw. 
Fearing least he at length the raines 

would lend 
Unto his lust, and make his will his law, 
Sith in his powre she was to foe or frend, 
She thought it best, lor shadow to pre- 
tend 
Some shew of favour, by him gracing 

small, 
That she thereby mote either freely wend, 
Or at more ease continue there his thrall : 
A little well is lent that gaineth more 
, withall. 

VII. 

So from thenceforth, when love he to 

her made, 
With better tearmes she did him enter- 

taine, 
Which gave him hope, and did him halfe 

perswade, 
That he in time her joyauce should ob- 

taine : 
But when she saw through that small 

favours gaine, 
That further then she willing was he 

prest, 
She found no meanes to barrehim, but to 

faine 
A sodaine sickenesse which her sore op- 

prest. 
And made unfit to serve his lawlesse 

miudes behest, 

VIII. 

By meanes whereof she would not him 

permit 
Once to approch to her in privity. 
But onely mongst the rest by her to sit, 
Mourning the rigour of her malady. 
And seeking all things meete for remedy ; 
But she resolv'd no remedy to fynde. 
Nor better cheare to shew'in misery, 
Till Fortune would her captive bonds 

unbynde : 
Her sickenesse was not of the body, 

but the mynde. 

IX, 

During which space that she thus sicke 
did lie, 
It chaunst a sort of merchants, which 
were wount 



To skim those coastes for bondmen there 

to bu5% 
And by such trafficke after gaines to 

hunt, 
Arrived in this Isle, though bare and 

blunt, 
T' inquire for slaves ; where being readie 

met 
By some of these same theeves at the 

instant brunt. 
Were brought unto their Captaine, who 

was set 
By his faire patients side with sorrowfull 

regret. 

X. 

To whom they shewed, how those mar- 
chants were 

Arriv'd in place their bondslaves for to 
buy; 

And therefore prayd that those same 
captives there 

Mote to them for their most commodity 

Be sold, and mongst them shared equally. 

This their request the Captaine much 
appalled. 

Yet could he not their just demaund deny. 

And willed streight the slaves should forth 
be called. 

And sold for most advantage, not to be 
forstalled. 



Then forth the good old Meliboe was 

brought. 
And Coridon with many other moe, 
Whom they before in diverse spoyles had 

caug'ht ; 
All which he to the marchants sale did 

showe : 
Till some, which did the sundry prisoners 

knowe, 
Gan to inquire for that faire shepherdesse. 
Which with the rest they tooke not long 

agoe ; 
And gan her forme and feature to ex- 

presse. 
The more t' augment her price through 

praise of comlinesse. 

XII. 

To whom the Captaine in full angry 

wize 
Made answere, that the mayd of whom 

they spake 
Was his owne purchase and his onely 

prize ; 
With which none had to doe, ne ought 

partake. 
But he himselfe which did that conquest 

make : 
Litle for him to have one silly lasse ; 



5i6 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Besides, through sickuesse now so wan 

and weake, 
That nothing meet in merchandise to 

passe : 
So shew'd them her, to prove how pale 

and weake she was. 



The sight of whom, tliough now decayd 

and mard, 
And eke but hardly seene by candle-light, 
Yet, like a Diamond of rich regard. 
In doubtfuU shadow of the darkesome 

night 
With starrie bearaes about her shining 

bright, 
These marchants fixed eyes did so amaze, 
That what through wonder, and what 

through delight, 
A while on her they greedily did gaze, 
And did her greatly like, and did her 

greatly praize. 

XIV. 

At last when all the rest of them offred 

were. 
And prises to them placed at their 

pleasure. 
They all refused in regard of her, 
Ne ought would buy, how ever prisd with 

measure, 
Withouten her, whose worth above all 

threasure 
They did esteeme, and offred store of 

gold. 
But then the Captaine, fraught with more 

displeasure. 
Bad them be still ; his love should not be 

sold ; 
The rest take if they would ; he her to 

him would hold. 



XV. 

other of 



the chiefest 



Therewith some 

theeves 
Boldly him bad such injurie forbeare; 
For that same mayd, how ever it him 

greeves, 
Should with the rest be sold before him 

theare. 
To make the prises of the rest more 

deare. 
That with great rage he stoutly doth 

denay ; 
And, fiercely drawing forth his blade, 

doth sweare 
That who so bardie hand on her doth 

lay, 
It dearely shall aby, and death for hand- 
sell pay. 



XVI. 

words 



amongst them 
the frute of too 



Thus, as they 

multiply. 
They fall to strokes, 

much talke, 
And the mad Steele about doth fiercely 

Not sparing wight, ne leaving any balke. 
But making way for death at large to 

walke ; 
Who, in the horror of the griesly night, 
In thousand dreadful shapes doth mougst 

them stalke, 
And makes huge havocke ; whiles th»^ 

candle-light 
Out quenched leaves no skill nor differ 

ence of wight. 



Like a sort of hungry dogs, ymet ^ 
About some carcase by the common way, 
Doe fall together, stryving each to get 
The greatest portion of the greedie pray, 
All on confused heapes themselves assay, 
And snatch, and byte, and rend, and tug, 

and teare ; 
That who them sees would wonder at their 

fray. 
And who sees not would be affrayd to 

heare : 
Such was the conflict of those cruell 

Brigants there. 



But first of all their captives they , 

kill. 
Least they should joyne against tta 

weaker side. 
Or rise against the remnant at their will; 
Old Meliboe is slaine ; and him beside 
His aged wife, with many others wide; 
But Coridon, escaping craftily, 
Creepes forth of dores, whilst darknes hia 

doth hide. 
And flyes away as fast as he can hye, 
Ne stayeth leave to take before his friends 

doe dye. 

XIX. 

But Pastorella, wofull wretched Elfe, 

Was by the Captaine all this while de- 
fended, 

Who, minding more her safety then him- 
selfe, 

His target alwayes over her pretended ; 

By means whereof, that mote not be 
amended, 

He at the length was slaine and layd on 
ground. 

Yet holding fast twixt both his armes ex- 
tended 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



517 



Fayre Pastorell, who, with the selfe same 

wound 
Launcht through the arme, fell down with 

him in drerie swouud. 



There lay she covered with confused 

preasse 
Of carcases, which dying on her fell. 
Tho, when as he was dead, the fray gan 

ceasse ; 
And each to other calling did compell 
To .stay their cruell hands from slaughter 

fell, 
Sith they that were the cause of all were 

gone : 
Thereto they all attonce agreed well ; 
And, lighting candles new, gan search 

anoue, 
How many of their friends were slaine, 

how many fone. 



Their Captaine there they cruelly found 

kild, 
And in his armes the dreary dying mayd , 
Like a sweet Angell twixt two clouds up- 

hild ; 
Her lovely light was dimmed and decayd 
With cloud of death upon her eyes dis- 

playd ; 
Yet did the cloud make even that dimmed 

light 
Seeme much more lovely in that dark- 

nesse layd, 
* nd twixt the twinckling of her eye-lids 

bright 
To sparke out litle beames, like starres in 

foggie night. 

XXII. 

But when they mov'd the carcases 

aside, 
They found that life did yet in her re- 

maine : 
Then all their helpes they busily applyde 
To call the soule backe to her home againe ; 
And wrought so well, with labour and 

long paine. 
That they to life recovered her at last : 
Who, sighing sore, as if her hart in twaine 
Had riven bene and all her hart-strings 

brast, 
With drearie drouping eyne lookt up like 

one aghast. 

XXIII. 

There she beheld, that sore her griev'd 
to see, 
Her father and her friends about her 
lying, 



Her selfe sole left a second spoyle to bee 

Of those, that, having saved her from 
dying, 

Renew'd her death by timely death deny- 
ing. 

What now is left her but to wayle and 
weepe, 

Wringing her hands, and ruefully loud 
crying ? 

Ne cared she herw^ound in teares tosteepe, 

Albe with all their might those Brigants 
her did keepe. 

XXIV. 

But when they saw her now reliv'd 

againe. 
They left her so, in charge of one, the 

best 
Of many worst, who with unkind disdaine 
And cruell rigour her did much molest ; 
Scarse yeelding her due food or timely 

rest, 
And scarsely suffring her infestred wound. 
That sore her payn'd, by any to be 

drest. 
So leave we her in wretched thraldome 

bound , 
And turne we backe to Calidore where we 

him found. 



Who when he backe returned from the 

wood. 
And saw his shepheards cottage spoyled 

quight. 
And his love reft away, he wexed w^ood 
And halfe enraged at that ruefull sight ; 
That even his hart, for very fell despight, 
And his owne flesh he readie was to 

teare : 
He chauft, he griev'd, he fretted, and he 

sight, 
And fared like a furious wyld Beare, 
Whose whelpes are stolne away, she being 

otherwhere. 

XXVI. 

Ne wight he found to wiiom he might 

complaine, 
Ne wight he found of whom he might 

inquire, 
That more increast the anguish of his 

paine : 
He sought the woods, but no man could 

see there ; 
He sought the plaines, but could no tyd- 

ings heare : 
The woods did nought but ecchoes vaine 

rebound ; 
The playnes all waste and emptie did 

appeare ; 



5i8 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Where wont the shepheards oft their 

pypes resound, 
And feed an hundred flocks, there now 

not one he found. 

XXVII. 

At last, as there he romed up and 
downe. 
He chaunst one comming towards him to 

That seem'd to be some sorie simple 

clown e, 
With ragged weedes, and lockes upstar- 

ing hye. 
As if he did from some late daunger fly, 
And yet his feare did foUow him behynd : 
Who as he unto him approched nye, 
He mote perceive by signes which he did 

fynd, 
That Coridon it was, the silly shepherds 

hynd. 

XXVIII. 

Tho, to him running fast, he did not stay 
To greet him first, but askt where were 

the rest ? 
Where Pastorell ? — Who full of fresh 

dismay, 
And gushing forth in teares, was so op- 

prest, 
That he no word could speake, but smit 

his brest, 
And up to heaven his eyes fast-streming 

threw : 
Whereat the knight amaz'd yet did not 

rest, 
But askt againe, what ment that rufull 

hew: 
Where was his Pastorell ? where all the 

other crew ? 



' Ah, well-away ! ' (sayd he, then sigh- 
ing sore) 
' That ever I did live this day to see, 
This disraall day, and was not dead be- 
fore. 
Before I saw faire Pastorella dye.' 
' Die ? out alas ! ' then Calidore did cry, 
' How could the death dare ever her to 

quell ? 
But read thou, shepheard, read what 

destiny 
Or other dyrefuU hap from heaven or 

hell 
Hath wrought this wicked deed : doe 
feare away, and tell.' 



Tho, when the Shepheard breathed had 
awhyle, 



He thus began : ' Where shall I then com- 
mence 

This wof uU tale ? or how those Brigants 
vyle, 

With cruell rage and dreadfull violence, 

Spoyld all our cots, and caried us from 
hence ; 

Or how faire Pastorell should have bene 
sold 

To marchants, but was sav'd with strong 
defence ; 

Or how those theeves, whilest one sought 
her to hold, 

Fell all at ods, and fought through fury 
- flerce and bold. 



' In that same conflict (woe is me !) be- 
fell 
This fatall chaunce, thisdolefull accident, 
Whose heavy tydings now I have to tell. 
First all the captives, which they here 

had hent. 
Were by them slaine by generall consent : 
Old Meliboe and his good wife withall 
These eyes saw die, and dearely did la- 
ment ; 
But, when the lot to Pastorell did fall. 
Their Captaine long withstood, and did 
her death forstall. 

XXXII. 

' But what could he gainst all them doe 

alone ? 
It could not boot : needs mote she die at 

last. 
I onely scapt through great confusione 
Of cryes and clamors which amongst 

them past, 
In dreadfull darknesse dreadfully aghast ; 
That better were with them to have bene 

dead. 
Then here to see all desolate and wast, 
Despoyled of those joyes and jolly-head. 
Which with those gentle shepherds here I 

wont to lead.' 

XXXIII. 

When Calidore these ruefull newes had 
raught, 

His hart quite deaded was with anguish 
great, 

And all his wits with doole were nigh dis- 
traught, 

That he his face, his head, his brest did 
beat. 

And death it selfe unto himselfe did 
threat ; 

Oft cursing th' heavens, that so cruell 
were 



CANTO XI. 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



519 



To her, whose name he often did repeat ; 
And wishing oft that he were present 

there 
When she was slaine, or had bene to her 

succour nere. 

XXXIV. 

But after griefe awhile had had his 

course, 
And spent it selfe in mourning, he at last 
Began to mitigate his swelling sourse, 
And in his mind with better reason cast 
How he might save her life, if life did 

last; 
Or, if that dead, how he her death might 

wreake, 
Sith otherwise he could not mend thing 

past ; 
Or if it to revenge he were too weake, 
Then for to die with her, and his lives 

threed to breake. 

XXXV. 

Tho Coridon he prayd, sith he well knew 
The readie way unto that theevish wonne. 
To wend with him, and be his conduct 

trew 
Unto the place, to see what should be 

donne ; 
But he, whose hart through feare was 

late fordonne. 
Would not for ought be drawne to former 

drede. 
But by all meanes the daunger knowne 

did shonne : 
Yet Calidore so well him wrought with 

meed. 
And faire bespoke with words, that he at 

last agreed. 

XXXVI. 

So forth they goe together (God before) 
Both clad in shepheards weeds agreeably, 
And both with shepheards hookes : But 

Calidore 
Had, underneath, him armed privily. 
Tho, to the place when they approched 

nye. 
They chaunst, upon an hill not farre 

away. 
Some flockes of sheepe and shepheards to 

espy ; 
To whom' they both agreed to take their 

way. 
In hope there newes to learne, how they 

mote best assay. 



There did they find, that which they 
did not feare, 



The selfe same flocks the which those 

theeves had reft 
From Melibce and from themselves whyle- 

are; 
And certaine of the theeves there by them 

left. 
The which, for want of beards, them- 
selves then kept. 
Right well knew Coridon his owne late 

sheepe, 
And seeing them for tender pittie wept ; 
But when he saw the theeves which did 

them keepe, 
His hart gan fayle, albe he saw them all 

asleepe. 

XXXVIII. 

But Calidore recomforting his griefe. 
Though not his feare, for nought may 

feare disswade. 
Him hardly forward drew, whereas the 

thiefe 
Lay sleeping soundly in the bushes shade, 
Whom Coridon him counseld to invade 
Now all unwares, and take the spoyle 

away ; 
But he, that in his mind had closely made 
A further purpose, would not so them 

slay. 
But gently waking them gave them the 

time of day. 

XXXIX. 

Tho, sitting downe by them upon the 

greene, 
Of sundrie things he purpose gan to faine, 
That he by them might certaine tydings 

weene 
Of Pastorell, were she alive or slaine: 
Mongst which the theeves them ques- 
tioned againe. 
What mister men, and eke from whence 

they were : 
To whom they aunswer'd, as did apper- 

taine, 
That they were poore heardgroomes, the 

which whylere 
Had from their maisters fled, and now 

sought hyre elswhere. 

XL. 

Whereof right glad they seem'd, and 

offer made 
To hyre them well if they their flockes 

' would keepe ; 
For they themselves were evill groomes, 

they sayd, 
Unwont with beards to watch, or pasture 

sheepe, 
But to forray the land, or scoure the 

deepe. 



520 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Thereto they soone agreed, aud earnest 

tooke 
To keepe their flockes for litle hyre and 

chepe, 
For they for better hyre did shortly 

looke : 
So there all day they bode, till light the sky 

forsooke. 

XLI. 

Tho, when as towards darksome night 

it drew. 
Unto their hellish dens those theeves them 

brought ; 
Where shortly they in great acquaintance 

grew, 
And all the secrets of their entrayles 

sought. 
There did they find, contrarie to their 

thought, 
That Pastorell yet liv'd ; but all the rest 
Were dead, right so as Coridon had 

taught : 
Whereof they both full glad and blyth 

did rest, 
But chiefly Calidore, whom griefe had 

most possest. 

XLII. 

At length, when they occasion fittest 

found. 
In dead of night, when all the theeves did 

rest, 
After a late forray, and slept full sound, 
Sir Calidore him arm'd as he thought 

best, 
Having of late by diligent inquest 
Provided him a sword of meanest sort ; 
With which he streight went to the Cap- 

taines nest : 
But Coridon durst not with him consort, 
Ne durst abide behind, for dread of worse 

effort. 

XLIII. 

AVhen to the Cave they came, they found 

it fast ; 
But Calidore with huge resistlesse might 
The dores assayled, and the locks up- 

brast: 
With novse whereof the theefe awaking 

liRht 
Unto the entrance ran ; where the bold 

knight 
Encountring him with small resistence 

slew. 
The whiles faire Pastorell through great 

affright 
Was almost dead, misdoubting least of- 

new 
Some uprore were like that which lately 

she did vew. 



But when as Calidore was comen in, 
And gau aloud for Pastorell to call. 
Knowing his voice, although not heard 

long sin. 
She sudden was revived therewithal!. 
And wondrous joy felt in her spirits 

thrall : 
Like him that being long in tempest tost. 
Looking each houre into deathes mouth 

to fall, 
At length espyes at hand the happie cost, 
On which he safety hopes that earst feard 

to be lost. 

XLV. 

Her gentle hart, that now long season 

past 
Had never joyance felt nor chearefull 

thought, 
Began some smacke of comfort new to 

tast, 
Like lyfull heat to nummed senses 

brought, 
Aud life to feele that long for death had 

sought. 
Ne lesse in hart rejoyced Calidore, 
When he her found ; but, like to one dis- 
traught 
And robd of reason, towards her him 

bore ; 
A thousand times embrast, and kist a 

thousand more. 

XLVI. 

But now by this, with noyse of late up- 
rore, 

The hew and cry was raysed all about ; 

And all the Brigants flocking in great 
store 

Unto the cave gan preasse, nought having 
dout 

Of that was doen, and entred in a rout : 

But Calidore in th' entry close did stand. 

And entertayning them with courage 
stout. 

Still slew the formost that came first to 
hand 

So long till all the entry was with bodies 
mand. 

XLVII. 

Tho, when no more could nigh to him 

approch, 
He breath'd his sword, and rested him till 

day; 
Which when he spyde upon the earth t' 

encroch, 
Through the dead carcases he made his 

way, 
Mongst which he found a sword of better 

say, 



CANTO XI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



52: 



With which he forth went iuto th' open 
light, 

Where all the rest for him did readie stay, 

And, fierce assayling him, with all their 
might 

Gan all upon him lay : there gan a dread- 
full fight. 

XLVIII. 

How many fiyes, in whottest sommers 
day, 
Do seize upon some beast whose flesh is 

bare, 
That all the place with swarmes do over- 
lay, 
And with their litle stings right felly fare ; 
So many theeves about him swarming are, 
All which do him assayle on every side, 
And sore oppresse, ne any him doth spare ; 
But he doth' with his raging brond divide 
Their thickest troups, and round about 
him scattreth wide. 



Like as a Lion mongst an heard of dere, 
Disperseth them to catch his choysest 

pray; 
So did he fly amongst them here and there. 
And all that nere him came did hew and 

slay, 
Till he had strowd with bodies all the way ; 
That none his daunger daring to abide 
Fled from his wrath, and did themselves 

convay 
Into their caves, their heads from death 

to hide. 



Ne any left that victorie to him en- 
vide. 



Then, backe returning to his dearest 

deare, 
He her gan to recomfort all he might 
With gladfull speaches and with lovely 

cheare ; 
And forth her bringing to the joyous 

light, 
Whereof she long had lackt the wishfuU 

sight, 
Deviz'd all goodly meanes from her to 

drive 
The sad remembrance of her wretched 

plight : 
So her uneath at last he did revive 
That long had lyen dead, and made again 

alive. 

LI, 

This doen, into those theevish dens he 
went, 

And thence did all the spoyles and 
threasures take, 

Which they from many long had robd and 
rent. 

But fortune now the victors meed did 
make : 

Of which the best he did his love betake ; 

And also all those flockes, which they be- 
fore 

Had reft from Meliboe and from his make, 

He .did them all to Coridon restore : 

So drove them all away, and his love with 
him bore. 



CANTO XH. 

Fayre Pastorella by great hap 
Her parents understands. 

Calidore doth the Blatant Beast 
Subdew, and bynd in bands. 



Like as a ship, that through the Ocean 

wyde 
Directs her course unto one certaine cost, 
Is met of many a counter winde and tyde. 
With which her winged speed is let and 

crost, 
And she her selfe in stormie surges tost ; 
Yet, making many a horde and many a bay, 
Still winneth way, ne hath her compasse 

lost : 
Right so it fares with me in this long way, 
Whose course is often stayd, yet never is 

astray. 

II. 
For all that hetherto hath long de- 



This gentle knight from sewing his first 

quest. 
Though out of course, yet hath not bene 

missayd. 
To shew the courtesie by him profest 
Even unto the lowest and the least. 
But now I come into my course againe. 
To his atchievement of the Blatant 

Beast ; 
Who all this while at will did range and 

raine, 
Whilst none was him to stop, nor none 

him to restraine. 



Sir Calidore, w^hen thus he now had 
rauffht 



522 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Faire Pastorella from those Brigants 

powre, 
Unto the Castle of Belgard her broiight, 
Whereof was Lord the good Sir Bella- 

raoure ; 
Who whylome was, in his youthes fresliest 

liowre, 
A lustie knight as ever wielded speare, 
And had endured many a dreadful stoure 
In bloudy battell for a Ladie deare, 
The fayrest Ladie then of all that living 

were: 

IV. 

Her name was Claribell ; whose father 

hight 
The Lord of Manj' Hands, farre renound 
For his great riches and his greater might : 
He, through the wealth wherein he did 

abound , 
This daughter thought in wedlocke to 

have bound 
Unto the Prince of Picteland, bordering 

nere; 
But she, whose sides before with secret 

wound 
Of love to Bellamoure empierced were, 
By all meanes shund to match with any 

forrein fere. 



And Bellamour againe so well her 

pleased 
With dayly service and attendance dew, 
That of her love he was eutyrely seized, 
And closely did her wed, but kuowne to 

few : 
Which when her father understood, he 

grew 
In so great rage that them in dongeon 

deepe 
Without compassion cruelly he threw; 
Yet did so streightly them asunder keepe, 
That neither could to company of th' other 

creepe. 

VI. 

Nathlesse Sir Bellamour, whether 

through grace 
Or secret guifts, so with his keepers 

wrought. 
That to his love sometimes he came in 

place ; 
Whereof her wombe, unwist to wight, 

was fraught. 
And in dew time a mayden child forth 

brought : 
Which she streightway, (for dread least 

if her syre 
Should know thereof to slay he would 

have sought,) 
Delivered to her handmayd, that for hyre 



She should it cause be fostred under 
straunge attyre. 



The trustie damzell bearing it abrode 
Into the emptie fields, where living wight 
Mote not bewray the secret of her lode, 
She forth gan lay unto the opeu light 
The litle babe, to take thereof a sight: 
Whom whylest she did with watrie eyne 

behold, 
Upon the litle brest, like christall bright, 
She mote perceive a litle purple mold. 
That like a rose her silken leaves did faire 

unfold. 

VIII. 

Well she it markt, and pittied the more. 
Yet could not remedie her wretched case ; 
But, closing it againe like as before, 
Bedeaw'd with teares there left it in the 

place : 
Yet left not quite, but drew a litle space 
Behind the bushes, where she did her 

hyde, 
To weet what mortall hand, or heavens 

grace, 
Would for the wretched infants helpe pro- 

vyde ; 
For which it loudly cald, and pittifully 

cryde. 

IX. 

At length a Shepheard, which there by 
did keepe 
His fleecie flock upon the playnes around. 
Led with the infants cry that loud did 

weepe, 
Came to the place ; where, when he 

wrapped found 
Th' abandond spoyle, he softly it un- 
bound ; 
And, seeing there that did him pittie sore, 
He tooke it up and in his mantle wound ; 
So home unto his honest wife it bore. 
Who as her owne it uurst (and named) 
evermore. 

X. 

Thus long continu'd Claribell a thrall, 
And Bellamour in bands ; till that her 

syre 
Departed life, and left imto them all: 
Then all the stormes of fortunes former 

yre 
W^ere turnd, and they to freedome did 

re tyre. 
Thenceforth they joy'd in happinesse 

together. 
And lived long in peace and love entyre. 
Without disquiet or dislike of ether, 
Till time that Calidore brought Pastorella 

thether. 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



523 



Both whom they goodly well did enter- 
taine; 
For Bellamour knew Calidore right well, 
And loved for his prowesse, sith they 

twaine 
Long since had fought in field : Als Clari- 

bell 
Ne lesse did tender the faire Pastorell, 
Seeing her weake and wan through dur- 
ance long. 
There they a while together thus did dwell 
In much delight, and many joyes among, 
Untill the Damzell gan to wex more 
sound and strong. 

XII. 

Tho gan Sir Calidore him to advize 
Of his first quest, which he had long for- 

lore, 
Asham'd to thinke how he that enterprize, 
The which the Faery Queene had long 

afore 
Bequeath'd to him, forslacked had so 

sore; 
That much he feared least reprochfull 

blame 
With foule dishonour him mote blot there- 
fore ; 
Besides the losse of so much loos and fame. 
As through the world thereby should 
glorifie his name. 



Therefore, resolving to returne in hast 
Unto so great atchievement, he bethought 
To leave his love, now perill being past, 
With Claribell ; whylest he that monster 

sought 
Throughout the world, and to destruction 

brought. 
So taking leave of his faire Pastorell, 
Whom to recomfort all the meanes he 

wrought, 
With thanks to Bellamour and Claribell, 
He went forth on his quest, and did that 

him befell. 



But first, ere I doe his adventures tell 
In this exploite, me needeth to declare 
What did betide to the faire Pastorell 
During his absence, left in heavy care 
Through daily mourning and nightly mis- 
fare : 
Yet did that auncient matrone all she 

might. 
To cherish her with all things choice and 

rare ; 
And her owne haudmayd, that Melissa 
hight, 



Appointed to attend her dewly day and 
night. 

XV. 

Who in a morning, when this Maiden 

faire 
Was dighting her, having her snowy brest 
As yet not laced, nor her golden haire 
Into their comely tresses dewly drest, 
Chaunst to espy upon her yvory chest 
The rosie marke, which she remembred 

well 
That litle Infant had, which forth she 

kest. 
The daughter of her Lady Claribell > 
The which she bore the whiles in prison 

she did dwell. 



Which well avizing, streight she gan to 

cast 
In her conceiptfull mynd that this faire 

Mayd 
Was that same infant, which so long sith 

past 
She in the open fields had loosely layd 
To fortunes spoile, unable it to ayd : 
So, full of joy, streight forth she ran in 

hast 
Unto her mistresse, being halfe dismayd. 
To tell her how the heavens had her graste 
To save her chylde, which in misfortunes 

mouth was plaste. 

XVII. 

The sober mother seeing such her mood, 

Yet knowing not what meant that sodaine 
thro, 

Askt her, how mote her words be under- 
stood. 

And what the matter was that mov'd her 
so? 

' My liefe,' (sayd she) ' ye know that long 

ygo. 

Whilest ye in durance dwelt, ye to me 

gave 
A little mayde, the which ye chylded tho ; 
The same agahie if now ye list to have. 
The same is yonder Lady, whom high God 

did save.' 

XVIII. 

Much was the Lady troubled at that 

speach. 
And gan to question streight, how she it 

knew? 
' Most certaine markes' (sayd she) 'do me 

it teach ; 
For on her brest I with these eyes did view 
The litle purple rose which thereon grew, 
Whereof her name ye then to her did 

give. 



524 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



Besides, her countenaunce and her likely 

hew,' 
Matched with equall years, do surely 

prieve 
That yond same is your daughter sure, 

which yet doth live.' 



The matroue stayd no lenger to enquire, 
But forth in hast ran to the straunger 

Mayd ; 
Whom catching greedily, for great desire 
Rent up her brest, and bosome open layd. 
In which that rose she plainely saw dis- 
play d : 
Then, her embracing twixt her armes 

twaine, 
She long so held, and softly weeping sayd ; 
' And livest thou, my daughter, now 

againe ? 
And art thou yet alive, whom dead I long 
did faine ?' 

XX. 

Tho further asking her of sundry things. 
And times comparing with their accidents, 
She found at last, by very certaine signes, 
And speaking markes of passed monu- 
ments. 
That this young Mayd, whom chance to 

her presents, 
Is her owne daughter, her owne infant 

deare. 
Tho, wondring long at those so straunge 

events, 
A thousand times she her embraced nere, 
With many a joyfull kisse and many a 
melting teare. 



Who ever is the mother of one chylde. 
Which having thought long dead she fyndes 

alive. 
Let her by proofe of that which she hath 

fylde 
In her owne breast, this mothers joy 

descrive ; 
For other none such passion can contrive 
In perfect forme, as this good Lady felt. 
When she so faire a daughter saw survive. 
As Pastorella was, that nigh she swelt 
For passing joy, which did all into pitty 

melt. 

XXII. 

Thence running forth unto her loved 

Lord, 
She unto him recounted all that fell ; 
Who, joyning joy with her in one accord, 
Acknowiedg'd for his owne faire Pastorell. 
There leave we them in joy, and let us 

tell 



Of Calidore ; who, seeking all this while 
That monstrous Beast by finall force to 

quell. 
Through every place with restlesse paine 

and toile 
Him follow 'd by the tract of his outra- 

gious spoile. 



Through all estates he found that he 

had past, 
In which he many massacres had left, 
And to the Clergy now was come at last ; 
In which such spoile, such havocke, and 

such theft 
He wrought, that thence all goodnesse he 

bereft. 
That endlesse were to tell. The Elfin 

Knight, 
Who now no place besides unsought had 

left. 
At length into a Monastere did light, 
Where he him found despoyling all with 

maine and might. 

XXIV. 

Into their cloysters now he broken had. 
Through which the Monckes he chaced 

here and there, 
And them pursu'd into their dortours sad, 
And searched all their eels and secrets 

neare : 
In which what filth and ordure did appeare, 
Were yrkesome to report ; yet that foule 

Beast, 
Nought sparing them, the more did tosse 

and teare, 
And ransacke all their dennes from most 

to least. 
Regarding nought religion, nor their holy 

heast. 

XXV. 

From thence into the sacred Church he 

broke, 
And robd the Chancell, and the deskes 

downe threw. 
And Altars fouled, and blasphemy spoke, 
And th' Images, for all their goodly hew, 
Did cast to ground, whilest none was them 

to rew ; 
So all confounded and disordered there : 
But, seeing Calidore, away he flew, 
Knowing his fatall hand by former feare ; 
But he him fast pursuing soone approched 

neare. 

XXVI. 

Him in a narrow place he overtooke. 
And fierce assailing forst him turne againe : 
Sternely he turnd againe, when he him 
strooke 



CANTO XII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



525 



I 



With his sharpe Steele, and ran at him 

amaine 
With open mouth, that seemed to containe 
A full good pecke within the utmost brim, 
All set with yron teeth in raunges twaine, 
That terrifide his foes, and armed him, 
Appearing like the mouth of Orcus griesly 

grim: 

XXVII. 

And therein were a thousand tongs em- 

pight 
Of sundry kindes and sundry quality ; 
Some were of dogs, that barked day and 

night : 
And some of cats, that wrawling still did 

cry; 
And some of Beares, that groynd continu- 
ally; 
And some of Tygres, that did seeme to 

gren 
And snar at all that ever passed by : 
But most of them were tongues of mortall 

men, 
Which spake reprochfully, not caring 

where nor when. 

XXVTII. 

And them amongst were mingled here 

and there 
The tongues of Serpents, with three 

foi^ked stings, 
That spat out poyson, and gore-bloudy 

gere, ^ 
At all that came within his ravenings; 
And spake licentious words and hatefull 

things 
Of good and bad alike, of low and hie, 
Ne Kesars spared he a whit, nor Kings ; 
But either blotted them with infamie. 
Or bit them with his banefuU teeth of 

injury. 

XXIX. 

But Calidore, thereof no whit afrayd, 
Reneountred him with so impetuous 

might, 
That th' outrage of his violence he stayd. 
And bet abacke, threatning in vaine to 

bite, 
And spitting forth the poyson of his 

spight 
That fomed all about his bloody jawes : 
Tho, rearing up his former feete on bight, 
He rampt upon him with his ravenous 

pawes. 
As if he would have rent him with his 

cruell clawes : 



I 



But he, right well aware, his rage to 
ward 



Did cast his shield atweene; and, there- 

withall 
Putting his puissaunce forth, pursu'd so 

hard, 
That backeward he enforced him to 

fall; 
And, being dowue, ere he newhelpe could 

call, 
His shield he on him threw, and fast 

downe held : 
Like as a bullocke, that in bloudy stall 
Of butchers balefull hand to ground is 

feld, 
Is forcibly kept downe, till he be throughly 

queld. 

XXXI. 

Full cruelly the Beast did rage and rore 
To be downe held, and maystred so with 

might, 
That he gan fret and fome out bloudy 

gore. 
Striving in vaine to rere him selfe upright : 
For still, the more he strove, the more the 

Knight 
Did him suppresse, and forcibly subdew, 
That made him almost mad for fell 

de spight: 
He grind, bee bit, he scratcht, he venim 

threw. 
And fared like a feend right horrible in 

hew: 

XXXII. 

Or like the hell-borne Hydra, which 

they faine 
That great Alcides w^hilome overthrew, 
After that he had labourd long in vaine 
To crop his thousand heads, the which 

still new 
Forth budded, and in greater number 

grew. 
Such was the fury of this hellish Beast, 
Whilest Calidore him under him downe 

threw ; 
Who nathemore his heavy load releast. 
But aye, the more he rag'd, the more his 

"powre increast. 



Tho, when the Beast saw he mote 

nought availe 
By force, he gan his hundred tongues 

apply. 
And sharpely at him to revile and raile 
With bitter termes of shamefull infamy ; 
Oft interlacing many a forged lie, 
Whose like he never once did speake, nor 

heare, 
Nor ever thought thing so unworthily: 
Yet did he nought, for all that, him for- 

beare, 



526 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VI. 



But strained him so streightly that he 
chokt him neare. 

XXXIV. 

At last, when as he found his force to 

shrincke 
And rage to quaile, he tooke a muzzel 

stroug 
Of surest yron, made with many a lincke : 
Tlierewith he mured up his mouth along, 
And therein shut up his blasphemous tong, 
For never more defaming gentle Knight, 
Or unto lovely Lady doing wrong ; 
And thereunto a great long chaine he tight, 
With which he drew him forth, even in 

his own despight. 

XXXV. 

Like as whylome that strong Tirynthian 
swaine 
Brought forth with him the dreadf nil dog 

of hell. 
Against his will fast bound in yron chaine, 
And, roring horribly, did him compell 
To see the hatefull sunne, that he might 

tell 
To griesly Pluto what on earth was donne, 
And to the otherdamned ghosts which dwell 
For aye in darkenesse, which day-light 

doth shonne : 
So led this Knight his captyve with like- 
conquest wonne. 

XXXVI. 

Yet greatly did the Beast repine at 

those 
Straunge bands, whose like till then he 

never bore, 
Ne ever any durst till then impose; 
And ehauffed inly, seeing now no more 
Him liberty was left aloud to rore: 
Yet durst he not draw backe, nor once 

withstand 
The proved powre of noble Calidore, 
But trembled underneath his mighty 

hand, 
And like a fearefull dog him followed 

through the land. 

XXXVII. 

Him through all Faery land he follow'd 

so, 
As if he learned had obedience long. 
That all the people, where so he did go. 
Out of their townes did round about him 

throng, 
To see him leade that Beast in bondage 

strong ; 
And seeing it much wondred at the sight : 
And all such persons as he earst did wrong 



Rejoyced much to see his captive plight, 
And much admyr'd the Beast, but more 
admyr'd the Knight. 



Thus was this Monster, by the may- 
string might 
Of doughty Calidore, supprestand tamed. 
That never more he mote endammadge 

wight 
With his vile tongue, which many had 

defamed , 
And many causelesse caused to be blamed. 
So did he eeke long after this remaine, 
Untill that, (whether wicked fate so 

framed 
Or fault of men,) he broke his yron chaine. 
And got into the world at liberty againe. 



Thenceforth more raischiefe and more 

scath he wrought 
To mortall men then he had done before ; 
Ne ever could, by any, more be brought 
Into like bands, ne maystred any more: 
Albe that, long time after Calidore, 
The good Sir Felleas him tooke in hand, 
And after him Sir Lamoracke of yore, 
And all his brethren borne in Britaine 

land ; 
Yet none of them could ever bring him 

into band. 

XL. 

So now he raungeth through the world 

againe. 
And rageth sore in each degree and state ; 
Ne any is that may him now restraine. 
He growen is so great and strong of late, 
Barking and biting all that him doe bate, 
Albe they worthy blame, or cleare of crime: 
Ne spareth he most learned wits to rate, 
Ne spareth he the gentle Poets rime ; 
But rends without regard of person or of 

time. 

XLI. 

Ne may this homely verse, of many 

meanest, 
Hope to escape his venemous despite, 
INIore then my former writs, all were they 

cleanest 
From blamefull blot, and free from all 

that wite 
With which some wicked tongues did it 

backebite, 
And bring into a mighty Peres displeasure, 
That never so deserved to endite. 
Therefore do you, my rimes, keep better 

measure. 
And seeke to please ; that now is counted 

wise mens threasure. 



TWO CANTOS OF 

MUTABILITIE : 

WHICH, BOTH FOR FORME AND MATTER, APPEARE TO BE PARCELL OF SOME 
FOLLOWING BOOKE OF 

THE FAERIE QUEENE, 

UNDER 

THE LEGEND OF CONSTANCIE. 

CANTO VI. 

Proud Change (notpleasd in mortall things 

Beneath the Moone to raigne) 
Pretends as well of Gods as Men 

To be the Soveraine. 



What man that sees the ever-whirling 

wheele, 
Of Change, the which all mortall things 

doth sway, 
But that therby doth find, and plainly 

feele, 
How Mutability in them doth play 
Her cruell sports to many mens decay? 
Which that to all may better yet appeare, 
I will rehearse that whylome I heard say, 
HoAV she at first her selfe began to reare 
Gainst all the Gods, and th' empire sought 

from them to beare. 



But first, here falleth fittest to unfold 
Her antique race and linage ancient. 
As I have found it registred of old 
In Faery Land mongst records permanent. 
She was, to weet, a daughter by descent 
Of those old Titans that did whylome 

strive 
With Saturnes sonne for heavens regi- 
ment ; 
Whom though high Jove of kingdome did 

deprive, 
Yet many of their stemme long after did 
survive : 

III. 

And many of them afterwards obtain 'd 
Great power of Jove, and high authority : 
As Hecate, in whose almighty hand 
He plac't all rule and principalitie. 
To be by her disposed diversly 
To Gods and men, as she them list divide ; 
And drad Bellona, that doth sound on hie 
Warres and allarums unto Nations wide. 



That makes both heaven and earth to 
tremble at her pride. 



So likewise did this Titanesse aspire 

Rule and dominion to her selfe to gaine ; 

That as a Goddesse men might her admire. 

And heavenly honors yield, as to them 
twain e : 

And first, on earth she sought it to ob- 
taine ; 

Where shee such proofe and sad examples 
shewed 

Of her great power, to many ones great 
paine. 

That not men onely (whom she soone sub- 
dewed) 

But eke all other creatures her bad doo- 
ings re wed. 

V. 

For she the face of earthly things so 

changed, 

That all which Nature had establisht first 

In good estate, and in meet order ranged, 

She did pervert, and all their statutes 

burst: 
And all the worlds faire frame (which 

none yet durst 
Of Gods or men to alter or misguide) 
She alter'd quite ; and made them all ac- 
curst 
That God had blest, and did at first pro- 
vide 
In that still happy state forever to abide, 



Ne shee the lawes of Nature onely brake, 
But eke of Justice, and of Policie ; 



527 



528 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



And wrong of right, and bad of good did 

make 
And death for life exchanged foolishlie : 
Since which all living wights have learn'd 

to die, 
And all this world is woxen daily worse. 
O pittious worke of Mutability, 
By which we all are subject to that curse, 
And death, instead of life, have sucked 

from our Nurse ! 



And now, when all the earth she thus 

had brought 
To her behest, and thralled to her might. 
She gan to cast in her ambitious thought 
T' attempt the empire of the heavens 

bight, 
And Jove himselfe to shoulder from his 

right. 
And first, she past the region of the ayre 
And of the fire, whose substance thin and 

slight 
Made no resistance, ne could her contraire. 
But ready passage to her pleasure did pre- 

paire. 

VIII. 

Thence to the Circle of the Moone she 

clambe, 
AVhere Cynthia raignes in everlasting 

glory, 
To whose bright shining palace straight 

she came, 
All fairely deckt with heavens goodly 

storie ; 
Whose silver gates (by which there sate an 

hory 
Old aged Sire, with howev-glasse in hand, 
Hight Time) she entred, were he liefe or 

sory ; 
Ne staide till she the highest stage had 

scand, 
Where Cynthia did sit, that never still did 

stand. 

IX. 

Her sitting on an Ivory throne shee 

found, 
Drawne of two steeds, th' one black, the 

other white, 
Enviroud with tenne thousand starres 

around 
That duly her attended day and night ; 
And by her side there ran her Page, that 

iiight 
Vesper, whom we the Evening-starre in- 
tend ; 
That with liis Torche, still twinkling like 

twylight. 
Her lightened all the way where she should 

wend, 



And joy to weary wandring travailers did 
lend: 

X. 

That when the hardy Titanesse beheld 
The goodly building of her Palace bright, 
Made of the heavens substance, and ur)- 

held 
With thousand Crystall pillors of huge 

bight. 
She gan to burne in her ambitious spright, 
And t' envie her that in such glory 

raigned. 
Eftsoones she cast by force and tortious 

might 
Her to displace, and to her selfe to have 

gained 
The kingdome of the Night, and waters 

by her wained. 



XI. 

Boldly she bid the Goddesse downe 

descend, 
And let her selfe into that Ivory throne ; 
For she her selfe more worthy thereof 

wend. 
And better able it to guide alone ; 
Whether to men, whose fall she did be- 

mone. 
Or unto Gods, whose state she did maligne, 
Or to th' infernall Powers her need give 

lone 
Of her faire light and bounty most be- 

nigne. 
Her selfe of all that rule she deemed 

most condigne. 

XII. 

But she, that had to her that soveraigne 

seat 
By highest Jove assign'd, therein to beare 
Nights burning lamp, regarded not her 

threat, 
Ne yielded ought for favour or for feare ; 
But with Sterne count'naunce and dis- 

dainfull cheare. 
Bending her horned browes, did put her 

back; 
And, boldly blaming her for comming 

there. 
Bade her attonce from heavens coast to 

pack, 
Or at her perill bide the wrathfull 

Thunders wrack. 

XIII. 

Yet nathemore the Giantesse forbare, 
But boldly preaciug-ou raught forth her 

hand 
To pluck her downe perforce from off 
her ehaire ; 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



529 



And, there-with lifting up her golden 
wand, 

Threatned to strike her if she did with- 
stand : 

Where-at the starres, which round about 
her blazed, 

And eke the Moones bright wagon still 
did stand. 

All beeing with so bold attempt amazed, 

And on her uncouth habit and steme 
looke still gazed. 

XIV. 

Mean-while the lower World, which 

nothing knew 
Of all that chaunced heere, was darkned 

quite ; 
And eke the heavens, and all the heavenly 

crew 
Of happy wights, now unpurvaid of 

light. 
Were much afraid, and wondred at that 

sight ; 
Fearing least Chaos broken had his 

chaine, 
And brought againe on them eternall 

night ; 
But chiefely Mercury, that next doth 

raigne, 
Ran forth in haste unto the king of Gods 

to plaine. 

XV. 

All ran together with a great out-cry 
To Joves faire palace fixt in heavens 

hight ; 
And, beating at his gates full earnestly, 
G^n call to him aloud with all their might 
To know what meant that suddaine lacke 

of light. 
The father of the Gods, when this he 

heard. 
Was troubled much at their so strange 

affright, 
Doubting least Typhon were againe 

uprear'd, 
Or other his old foes that once him sorely 

fear'd. 

XVI. 

Eftsoones the sonne of Maia forth he 

sent 
Downe to the Circle of the Moone, to 

knowe 
The cause of this so strange astonishment. 
And why she did her wonted course for- 

slowe ; 
And if that any were on earth belowe 
That did with charmes or Magick her 

molest. 
Him to attache, and dpwne to hell to 

throwe ; 



But if from heaven it were, then to arrest 
The Author, and him bring before his 
presence prest. 



The wingd-foot God so fast his plumes 

did beat. 
That soone he came where-as the Titanesse 
Was striving with faire Cynthia for her 

seat ; 
At whose strange sight and haughty har- 

dinesse 
He wondred much, and feared her no 

lesse : 
Yet laying feare aside to doe his charge, 
At last he bade her (with bold stedfast- 

nesse) 
Ceasse to molest the Moone to walke at 

large, 
Or come before high Jove her dooings to 

discharge. 

XVIII. 

And there-with-all he on her shoulder 

laid 
His snaky-wreathed Mace, whose awfull 

power 
Doth make both Gods and hellish fiends 

aff raid : 
Where-at the Titanesse did sternly lower. 
And stoutly answer'd, that in evill hower 
He from his Jove such message to her 

brought. 
To bid her leave faire Cynthia's silver 

bower ; 
Sith shee his Jove and him esteemed 

nought, 
No more then Cynthia's selfe ; but all 

their kingdoms sought. 



The Heavens Herald staid not to reply, 
But past away, his doings to relate 
Unto his Lord; who now, in th' highest 

sky. 
Was placed in his principall Estate, 
With all the Gods about him congre- 
gate: 
To whom when Hermes had his message 

told, 
It did them all exceedingly amate. 
Save Jove: who, changing nought his 

count'nance bold. 
Did unto them at length these speeches 
wise unfold ; 



' Harken to mee awhile, yee heavenly 
Powers ! 
Ye may remember since th' Earths cursed 
seed 



I 



5SO 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



Sought to assaile the heavens eternall 

towers, 
And to us all exceedmg feare did breed, 
But, how we then defeated all their deed, 
Yee all do knowe, and them destroyed 

quite ; 
Yet not so quite, but that there did succeed 
An off-spring of their bloud, which did 

alite 
Upon the fruitfull earth, which dotli us 

yet despite. 

XXI. 

' Of that bad seed is this bold woman 

bred, 
That now with bold presumption doth 

aspire 
To thrust faire Phoebe from her silver 

bed, 
And eke our selves from heavens high 

Empire, 
If that her might were match to her desire. 
Wherefore it now behoves us to advise 
What way is best to drive her to retire. 
Whether by open force, or counsell wise : 
Areed,ye sonnes of God, as best as ye can 

devise.' 

XXII. 

So having said, he ceast; and with 

his brow 
(His black eye-brow, whose doomefull 

dreaded beck 
Is wont to wield the world unto his vow. 
And even the highest Powers of heaven 

to check) 
Made signe to them in their degrees to 

speake, 
Who straight gan cast their counsell grave 

and wise. 
Mean-while th' l^larths daughter, thogh 

she nought did reck 
Of Hermes message, yet gan now advise 
What course were best to take in this hot 

bold emprize. 

XXIII. 

Eftsoones she thus rcsolv'd ; that 

whil'st the Gods 
(After returne of Hermes Embassie) 
Were troubled, and amongst themselves 

at ods. 
Before they could new counsels re-.allie. 
To set upon them in that extasie, 
And take v/hat fortune, time, and place 

would lend. 
So forth she rose, and through the purest 

sky 
To Joves high Palace straight cast to 

ascend. 
To prosecute her plot. Good on-set 

beads good end. 



XXIV. 

Shee there arriving boldly in did pass ; 
Where all the Gods she found in counsell 

close, 
All quite unarm'd, as then their manner 

was. 
At sight of her they suddaine all arose 
In great amaze, ne wist what way to 

chose : 
But Jove, all fearlesse, forc't them to 

aby; 
And in his soveraine throne gan straight 

dispose 
Himselfe, more full of grace and Majestic, 
That mote encheare his friends, and foes 

mote terrifie. 

XXV. 

That when the haughty Titanesse 
belield. 

All were she fraught with pride and 
impudence, 

Yet with the sight thereof was almost 
queld ; 

And, inly quaking, seem'd as reft of 
sense 

And voyd of speech in thatdrad audience, 

Until that Jove himselfe her seife be- 
spake : 

' Speake, thou fraile woman, speake with 
confidence ; 

Whence art thou, and what doost thou 
here now make? 

What idle errand hast thou earths man- 
sion to forsake ? ' 

XXVI. 

She, halfe confused with his great 

commaund, 
Yet gathering spirit of her natures pride. 
Him boldly answer'd thus to his demaund : 
' I am a daughter, by the mothers side. 
Of her that is Grand-mother magnifide 
Of all the Gods, great Earth, great Chaos 

child ; 
But by the fathers, (be it not en vide) 
I greater am in bloud (whereon I build) 
Then all the Gods, though wrongfully 

from heaven exil'd. 



' For Titan (as ye all acknowledge 
must) 

Was Saturnes elder brother by birth- 
right, 

Both sonnes of Uranus ; but by unjust 

And guilefull nieanes, through Corybantes 
slight. 

The younger thrust the elder from his 
right ; 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



531 



Siuce which thou, Jove, injuriously hast 

held 
The Heavens rule from Titans sonnes by 

might, 
And them to hellish dungeons dowue hast 

feld. 
Witnesse, ye Heavens, the truth of all 

that I have teld ! ' 



Whil'st she thus spake, the Gods, that 

gave good eare 
To her bold words, and marked well her 

grace, 
(Beeing of stature tall as any there 
Of all the Gods, and beautifull of face 
As any of the Goddesses in place,) 
Stood all astonied ; like a sort of steeres, 
Mongst whom some beast of strange and 

forraine race 
Unwares is chaunc't, far straying from 

his peeres: 
So did their ghastly gaze bewray their 

hidden feares. 

XXIX. 

Till, having pauz'd awhile, Jove thus 

bespake : 
' Will never mortall thoughts ceasse to 

aspire 
In this bold sort to Heaven claime to 

make, 
And touch celestiall seats with earthly 

mire ? 
I would have thought that bold Pro- 
crustes hire. 
Or Typhous fall, or proud Ixions paine. 
Or great Prometheus tasting of our 

ire. 
Would have suffiz'd the rest for to 

restraine, 
And warn'd all men by their example to 

refraine. 

XXX. 

' But now this off-scum of that cursed 

fry 
Dare to renew the like bold enterprize. 
And chalenge th' heritage of this our 

skie; 
Whom what should hinder, but that we 

likewise 
Should handle as the rest of her allies. 
And thunder-drive to hell?' With that, 

he shooke 
His Nectar-deawed locks, with which the 

skyes 
And all the world beneath for terror 

quooke. 
And eft his burning leviu-brond in hand 

he tooke. 



But when he looked on her lovely face, 
In which faire beames of beauty did 

appeare 
That could the greatest wrath soone turne 

to grace, 
(Such sway doth beauty even in Heaven 

beare) 
He staid his hand; and, having chang'd 

his cheare, 
He thus againe in milder wise began : 
' But ah! if Gods should strive with flesh 

yfere, 
Then shortly should the progeny of man 
Be rooted out, if Jove should do still 

what he can. 



'But thee, faire Titans child, I rather 

weene. 
Through some vaine errour, or induce- 
ment light. 
To see that mortall eyes have never scene ; 
Or through ensample of thy sisters might, 
Bellona, whose great glory thou doost 

spight. 
Since thou hast scene her dreadfuU power 

belowe, 
Mongst wretched men (dismaide with her 

affright) 
To bandie Crowues, and Kingdoms to 

bestowe : 
And sure thy worth no lesse than hers 

doth seem to showe. 

XXXIII. 

' But wote thou this, thou hardy Titan- 

esse, 
That not the w^orth of any living wight 
May challenge ought in Heavensmteresse ; 
Much lesse the Title of old Titans Right: 
For we by conquest, of our soveraine 

might, 
And by eternal doome of Fates decree, 
Have wonne the Empire of the Heavens 

bright ; 
Which to our selves we hold, and to whom 

wee 
Shall worthy deeme partakers of our 

blisse to bee. 

XXXIV. 

' Then ceasse thy idle claime, thou foolish 

gerle ; 
And seeke by grace and goodnesse to 

obtaine 
That place, from which by folly Titan 

fell : 
There to thou maist perhaps, if so thou 

faine 



532 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



Have Jove thy gracious Lord and Sover- 

aine.' 
So having said, she thus to him replide : 
'Ceasse, Saturnes sonne, to seeke by prof- 
fers vaine 
Of idle hopes t' allure me to thy side, 
For to betray my Right before I have it 
tride. 

XXXV, 

' But thee, O Jove ! no equall Judge I 
deerae 
Of my desert, or of my dewfull Right ; 
That in thine owue behalfe maist partiall 

see me : 
But to the highest him, that is behight 
Father of Gods and men by equall might. 
To weet, the God of Nature, I appeale.' 
There-at Jove wexed wroth, and in his 

spright 
Did inly grudge, yet did it well conceale ; 
And bade Dan Phoebus scribe her Appella- 
tion scale. 

XXXVI. 

Eftsoones the time and place appointed 

were, 
Where all, both heavenly Powei-s and 

earthly wights. 
Before great Natures presence should 

appeare. 
For triall of their Titles and best Rights : 
That was, to weet, upon the highest 

bights 
Of Arlo-hill (Who knowes not Arlo-hill ? ) 
That is the highest head (in all mens 

sights) 
Of my old father Mole, whom Shepheards 

quill 
Renowmed hath with hymnes fit for a 

rurall skill. 

XXXVII, 

And, were it not ill fitting for this file 
To sing of hillesand woods mongstwarres 

and Knights, 
I would abate the sternenesse of my 

stile, 
Mongst these sterne stounds to mingle 

soft delights; 
And tell how Arlo, through Dianaes 

spights, 
(Beeing of old the best and fairest Hill 
That was in all this holy Islands bights) 
Was made the most unpleasant and most 

ill: 
Meane-while, O Clio ! lend Calliope thy 

quill. 

XXXVIII. 

Whylome when Ireland florished in 
fame 



Of wealths and goodnesse, far above the 

rest 
Of all that beare the British Islands name, 
The gods then us'd (for pleasure and for 

rest) 
Oft to resort there-to, when seem'd them 

best; 
But none of all there-in more pleasure 

found 
Then Cynthia, that is soveraine Queene 

prof est 
Of woods and forrests which therein i 

abound, 
Sprinkled with wholsom waters more then 

most on ground ; 



But mongst them all, as fittest for her 

game, 
Eyther for chace of beasts with hound or 

boawe. 
Or for to shrowde in shade from Phoebus ' 

flame. 
Or bathe in fountaines that do freshly i 

flowe 
Or from high hilles or from the dales' 

belowe, 

She chose this Arlo ; where she did resort 
With all her Nymphes enranged on a 

rowe. 
With whom the woody Gods did oft con- 1 

sort. 
For with the Nymphes the Satyres loveL 

to play and sport. * 



Amongst the which there was a Nymph 

that hight 
Molanna ; daughter of old Father Mole 
And sister unto Mulla faire and bright, 
Unto whose bed false Bregog whylome 

stole. 
That Shepheard Colin dearely did condole, 
And made her lucklesse loves well knowne' 

to be: 
But this Molanna, were she not so shole 
Were no lesse faire and beautifull then 

shee; 
Yet, as she is, a fayrer flood may no man 

see. 

XLI. 

For, first, she springs out of two marblel 

Rocks, 
On which a grove of Oakes high-mounted 

growes, , 

That as a girlond seemes to deck the locks 
Of som faire Bride, brought forth witl 

pompous showes 
Out of her bowre, that many flowers! 

strowes; 



■CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



533 



So through the flowry Dales she tumbling 

downe 
Jhrough many woods and shady coverts 

tiowes, 
(That on each side her silver channell 

crowne) 
Till to the Plaine she come, whose Valleyes 

she doth drowne. 

XLII, 

In her sweet streames Diana used oft 
(After her sweaty chace and toylesome 

play) 
To bathe her selfe ; and, after, on the soft 
And downy grasse her dainty limbes to 
r lay 

!lu covert shade, where none behold her 
j may ; 

• For much she hated sight of living eye. 
Foolish god Faunus, though full mjiny a 

day 
He saw her clad, yet longed foolishly 
To see her naked 'mougst her Nymphes in 
privity. 

XLIII. 

No way he found to compasse his desire. 
But to corrupt Molauna, this her maid, 
Her to discover for some secret hire : 
So her with flattering words he first 

assaid ; 
And after, pleasing gifts for her purvaid, 
Queene-apples, and red Cherries from the 

tree, 
With which he her allured, and betrayd 
To tell what time he might her Lady see 
When she her selfe did bathe, that he 

might secret bee. 

XLIV. 

There-to he promist, if shee would him 

pleasure 
With this small boone, to quit her with a 

better; 
To weet, that where-as shee had out of 

measure 
DLong lov'd the Fanchin, who by nought 

did set her, 
That he would undertake for this to get 

her 
To be his Love, and of him liked well : 
(Besides all which, he vow'd to be her 

debter 
For many moe good turnes then he would 

tell. 
The least of which this little pleasure 

should excell. 

XLV. 

The simple mayd did yield to him 
anoue ; 



And eft him placed where he close might 

view 
That never any saw, save onely one, 
Wlio, for his hii-e to so foole-hardy dew. 
Was of his hounds devour'd in Hunters 

hew. 
Tho, as her manner was on sunny day, 
Diana, with her Nymphes about her, drew 
To this sweet spring ; where, dotting her 

array. 
She bath'd her lovely limbes, for Jove a 

likely pray. 

XLVI. 

There Faunus saw that pleased much 
his eye, 
And made his hart to tickle in his brest. 
That, for great joy of some-what he did 

spy. 

He could him not containe in silent rest ; 
But, breaking forth in laughter, loud 

protest 
His foolish thought: A foolish Faune 

indeed. 
That couldst not hold thy selfe so hidden 

blest. 
But wouldest needs thine owne conceit 

areed ! 
Babblers unworthy been of so divine a 

meed. 

XLVII. 

The Goddesse, all abashed with that 

noise, 
In haste forth started from the guilty 

brooke ; 
And, running straight wiiere-as she heard 

his voice, 
Enclos'd the bush about, and there him 

tooke. 
Like darred Larke, not daring up to looke 
On her whose sight before so much he 

sought. 
Thence forth they drew him by the homes, 

and shooke 
Nigh all to peeces, that they left him 

nought ; 
And then into the open light they forth 

him brought. 

XLVIII. 

Like as an huswife, that with busie care 
Thinks of her Dairy to make wondrous 

gaine. 
Finding where-as some wicked beast 

unware 
That breakes into her Dayr' house, there 

doth draine 
Her creaming pannes, and frustrate all 

her paine. 
Hath, in some snare or gin set close behind, 



;34 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. i a 



Entrapped him, and caught into her 

traiue ; 
Then thinkes what punishment were best 

assign 'd, 
And thousand deathes deviseth in her 

vengefull mind. 

XLIX. 

So did Diana and her maydens all 
Use silly Faunus, now within their baile: 
They niocke and scorne him, and him 

foLile miscall; 
Some by the nose him pluckt, some by the 

taile, 
And by his goatish beard some did him 

haile : 
Yet he (poore soule ! ) with patience all 

did beare ; 
For nought against their wils might 

countervaile : 
Ne ought he said, what ever he did 

heare, 
But, hanging downe his head, did like a 

Mome appeare. 



At length, when they had flouted him 

their fill, 
They gan to cast what penaunce him to 

give. 
Some would have gelt him ; but that same 

would spill 
The Wood-gods breed, which must for 

ever live: 
Others would through the river him have 

drive 
And ducked deepe ; but that seem'd 

penaunce light : 
But most agreed, and did this sentence 

give. 
Him in IDeares skin to clad ; and in that 

plight 
To hunt him with their hounds, him selfe 

save how bee might. 

LI. 

But Cynthia's selfe, more angry then 

the rest. 
Thought not enough to punish him in sport, 
And of her shame to make a gamesome 

jest; 
But gan examine him in straighter sort. 
Which of her Nymphes, or other close 

consort. 
Him thither brought, and her to him 

betraid ? 
He, much affeard, to her confessed short 
That 'twas Molanna which her so bewraid. 
Then all attonce their hands uponMolanna 

laid. 



But him (according as they had 

decreed) 
With a Deeres-skin they covered, and 

then chast 
With all their hounds that after him did 

speed ; 
But he, more speedy, from them fled more 

fast 
Then any Deere, so sore him dread 

aghast. 
They after follow'd all with shrill out-cry, 
Shouting as they the heavens would have 

brast ; 
That all the woods and dales, where he 

did flie, 
Did ring againe, and loud re-eccho to tht 



,ile 



So they him follow'd till they weary 

were; 
When, back returning to Molann' agaiue 
They, by commaund'ment of Diana, theit 
Her whelm'd with stones. Yet Faunus 

(for her paiue) 
Of her beloved Fanchin did obtaine, 
That her he would receive unto his bed : 
So now her waves passe through s 

pleasant Plaine, 
Till with the Fanchin she her selfe do wed 
And (both combin'd) themselves in ont 

faire river spred. 

LIV. 

Nath'lesse Diana, full of indignation, 
Thence-forth abandond her" delicious 

brooke, 
In whose sweet streame, before that bat 

occasion. 
So much delight to bathe her limbes sh< 

tooke : 
Ne onely her, but also quite forsooke 
All those faire forrests about Arlo hid 
And all that Mountaine, which doth over 

looke 
The richest champain that may else h 

rid; 
And the faire Shure, in which are thou 

sand Salmons bred. 



Them ail, and all that she so deare di< 

way, 
Thence-forth she left ; and, parting froi 

the place, 
There-on an heavy haplesse curse did lay 
To weet, that Wolves, where she wa 

wont to space. 
Should harbour'd be and all those Woo^l 

deface, 



h 



Sof, 



kk 



CANTO VI.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



535 



And Thieves should rob and spoile that 

Coast around : 
Since which, those Woods, and all that 

goodly Chase 



Doth to this day with Wolves and Thieves 

abound : 
Which too-too true that lands in -dwellers 

since have found. 



CANTO VII. 

Pealing from Jove to Nature's bar, 

Bold Alteration pleades 
Large Evidence : but Natures scone 

Her righteous Doome areads. 



Ah! whither doost thou now, thou 

greater Muse, 
Me from these woods and pleasing forrests 

bring, 
And my fraile spirit, (that dooth oft 

refuse 
This too high flight, unfit for her weake 

wing) 
Lift up aloft, to tell of heavens King 
(Thy soveraine Sire) his fortunate 

successe ; 
And victory in bigger notes to sing 
Which he obtain'd against that Titanesse, 
That him of heavens Empire sought to 

dispossesse ? 



Yet. sith I needs must follow thy be- 
hest, 
Do thou my weaker wit with skill inspire, 
Fit for this turne ; and in my feeble brest 
Kindle fresh sparks of that immortall lire 
W^hich learned minds inflameth with 

desire 
Of heavenly things: for who, but thou 

alone 
That art yborne of heaven and heavenly 

Sire, 
Can tell things doen in heaven so long 

ygone, 
So farre past memory of man that maybe 
knowne ? 

III. 

Now, at the time that was before 

agreed, 
The gods assembled all on Arlo Hill ; 
A.S well those that are sprung of heavenly 

seed, 
As those that all the other world do fill. 
And rule both sea and land unto their 

will : 
Onely th' infernall Powers might not 

appeare ; 
As well for horror of their count'naunce 

ill, 
As for th' unruly fiends which they did 

f eare ; 



Yet Pluto and Proserpina were present 
there. 

IV. 

And thither also came all other 

creatures, 
What-ever life or motion do retaine. 
According to their sundry kinds of 

features. 
That Arlo scarsly could them all containe. 
So full they filled every hill and Plaine ; 
And had not Natures Sergeant (that is 

Order) 
Them well disposed by his busie paine, 
And raunged farre abroad in every 

border. 
They would have caused much confusion 

and disorder. 



Then forth issewed (great goddesse) 

great dame Nature 
With goodly port and gracious Majesty, 
Being far greater and more tall of stature 
Then any of the gods or Powers on hie : 
Yet certes by her face and physnomy, 
AVhether she man or woman inly were, 
That could not any creature well descry; 
For with a veile, that wimpled every 

where. 
Her head and face was hid that mote to 

none appeare. 

VI. 

That, some do say, was so by skill 

devized. 
To hide the terror of her uncouth hew 
From mortall eyes that should be sore 

agrized ; 
For that her face did like a Lion shew, 
That eye of wight could not indure to 

view : 
But others tell that it so beautious was. 
And round about such beanies of splendor 

threw, 
That it the Sunne a thousand times did 

pass, 
Ne could be seene but like an image in a 

glass. 



536 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



That well may seemen true ; for well I 

weene, 
That this same day when she on Arlo sat, 
Her garment was so bright and wondrous 

sheene, 
That my fraile wit cannot devize to what 
It to compare, nor finde like stuffeto that : 
As those three sacred Saints, though else 

most wise. 
Yet on Mount Thabor quite their wits 

forgat. 
When they their glorious Lord in strange 

disguise 
Transfigur'd sawe ; his garments so did 

daze their eyes. 



In a fayre Plaine upon an equall Hill 
She placed was in a pavilion ; 
Not such as Craftes-men by their idle 

skill 
Are wont for Princes states to fashion ; 
Butth' Earth herselfe, of her owne motion, 
Out of her fruitf ull bosome made to growe 
Most dainty trees, that, shooting up anon. 
Did seeme to bow their bloosming heads 

full lowe 
For homage unto her, and like a throne 

did showe. 

IX. 

So hard it is for any living wight 
All her array and vestiments to tell. 
That old Dan Geffrey (in whose gentle 

spright, 
The pure well head of Poesie did dwell) 
In his Foules parley durst not with it 

mel, 
But it transferd to Alane, who he thought 
Had in his Plaint of kinde describ'd it 

well: 
Which who will read set forth so as it 

ought, 
Go seek he out that Alane where he may 

be sought. 

X. 

And all the earth far underneath her 

feete 
Was dight with flowers that voluntary 

grew 
Out of the ground, and sent forth odours 

sweet; 
Tenne thousand mores of sundry sent and 

hew, 
That might delight the smell, or please 

the view, 
The which the Nymphes from all the 

brooks thereby 
Had gathered, they at her foot-stoole 

threw ; 



That richer seem'd then any tapestry, ^ 
That Princes bowres adorne with painted 
imagery. 

XI. 

And Mole himselfe, to honour her the 
more. 
Did deck himselfe in freshest faire attire ;i 
And his high head, that seemeth alvvayes 



hore 
With hardned frosts of former winters 

ire, 
He with an Oaken girlond now did tire. 
As if the love of some new Nymph, lat€ 

scene. 
Had in him kindled youthf ull fresh desire 
And made him change his gray attire tc 

greene : 
Ah, gentle Mole ! such joyance hath thee 

well beseene. 

XII. 

Was never so great joyance since thf 

day 
That all the gods whylome assemblec 

were 
On Hsemus hill in their divine array. 
To celebrate the solemne bridall cheare 
Twixt Peleus and Dame Thetis pointed 

there ; 
Where Phoebus selfe, that god of Poet' 

hight. 
They say, did sing the spousall hymnf 

full cleere, 
That all the gods were ravisht witl 

delight 
Of his celestiall song, and Musicks won 

drous might. 



This great Grandmother of all creature! 

bred. 
Great Nature, ever young, yet full of eld 
Still mooving, yet unmoved from her sted 
Unseene of any, yet of all beheld ; 
Thus sitting in her throne, as I have teld 
Before her came dame Mutability; 
And, being lowe before her presence feld 
AVith meek obaysance and humilitie. 
Thus gan her plantif Plea with words t< 

amplifie : 

XIV. 

' To thee, O greatest Goddesse, onel; 
great ! 
And humble suppliant loe! I lowely fly, 
Seeking for Right, whicli I of thee entreat 
Who Right to all dost deale indifferetitly 
Damning all Wrong and tortious Injurie 
Which any of thy creatures do to other 
(Oppressing them with power unequally, 
Sith of them all thou art the equall mothei 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



537 



And knittest each to each, as hrother uuto 
brother. 

XV. 

' To thee therefore of this same Jove I 

plaine, 
And of his fellow gods that faine to be, 
That challeuge to themselves the whole 

worlds raigu, 
Of which the greatest part is due to me, 
And heaven it selfe by heritage in Fee : 
For heaven and earth I both alike do 

deeme, 
Sith heaven and earth are both alike to 

thee, 
Ami gods no more then men thou doest 

esteeme ; 
Fur even the gods to thee, as men to gods, 

do seenie. 

XVI. 

' Then weigh, O soveraigne goddesse ! by 

what right 
These gods do claime the worlds whole 

soverainty. 
And that is ouely dew unto thy might 
Arrogate to themselves ambitiously : 
As for the gods owne principality, 
Which Jove usurpes unjustly, that to be 
My heritage Jove's seUe cannot denie. 
From my great Grandsire Titan unto 

mee 
Deriv'd by dew descent ; as is well knowen 

to thee. 



* Yet mauger Jove, and all his gods 
beside, 
I do possesse the worlds most regiment ; 
As if ye please it into parts divide. 
And every parts inholders to convent, 
Shall to your eyes appeare incontinent. 
And, first, the Earth (great mother of us 

all) 
That only seemes unmov'd and perma- 
nent. 
And unto Mutabilitie not thrall, 
Yet is she chang'd in part, and eeke in 
generall : 

XVIII. 

' For all that from her springs, and is 

ybredde, 
How-ever faire it flourish for a time. 
Yet see we soone decay : and, being dead, 
To turne againe unto their earthly slime : 
Yet, out of their decay and mortail crime. 
We daily see new creatures to arize. 
And of their Winter spring another Prime, 
Unlike informe, and chang'd by strange 

disguise : 
So turne they still about, and change in 

restlesse wise. 



' As for her tenants, that is, man and 
beasts, 
The beasts we daily see massacred dy 
As thralls and vassals unto mens beheasts ; 
And men themselves do change continu- 
ally, 
From youth to eld, from wealth to poverty, 
From good to bad, from bad to worst of 

all: 
Ne doe their bodies only flit and fly, 
But eeke their minds (which thev immor- 

tall call) 
Still change and vary thoughts, as new 
occasions fall. 



' Ne is the water in more constant case. 
Whether those same on high, or these 

belowe ; 
For th' Ocean moveth still from place to 

place. 
And every River still doth ebbe and flowe ; 
Ne any Lake, that seems most still and 

slowe, 
Ne Poole so small, that can his smooth- 

nesse holde 
When any winde doth under heaven blowe ; 
With which the clouds are also tost and 

roll'd, 
Now like great Hills, and streight like 

sluces them unfold. 



' So likewise are all watry living wights 
Still tost and turned with continuall 

change. 
Never abiding in their stedfast plights: 
The fish, still floting, doe at random 

range. 
And never rest, but evermore exchange 
Their dwelling places, as the streames 

them Carrie : 
Ne have the watry foules a certaine grange 
Wherein to rest, ne in one stead do tarrj' ; 
But flitting still doe flie, and still their 

places vary. 



* Next is the Ayre ; which who feeles 

not by sense 
(For of all sense it is the middle meane) 
To flit still, and with subtill influence 
Of his thin spirit all creatures to nuiiu- 

taine 
In state of life? O weake life! that does 

leane 
On thing so tickle as th' unsteady ayre. 
Which every howre is chang'd aud altred 

cleaue 



538 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII 



With every blast that bloweth, fowle or 

f aire : 
The faire doth it prolong ; the fowle doth 

it impaire. 

xxm. 

* Therein the changes infinite beholde, 

Which to her creatures every minute 
chaunce ; 

Now boyling hot, streight friezing deadly 
cold ; 

Now faire sun-shine, that makes all skip 
and daunce ; 

Streight bitter stormes, and balefull coun- 
tenance 

That makes them all to shiver and to 
shake : 

Rayne, liaile, and snowe do pay them sad 
penance, 

And dreadfull thunder-claps (that make 
them quake) 

With flames and flashing lights that thou- 
sand changes make. 

XXIV. 

'Last is the fire; which, though it live 

for ever, 
Ne can be quenched quite, yet every day 
We see his parts, so soone as they do 

sever, 
To lose their heat and shortly to decay ; 
So makes himself his owue consuming 

pray : 
Ne any living creatures doth he breed. 
But all that are of others bredd doth 

slay ; 
And with their death his cruell life dooth 

feed; 
Nought leaving but their barren ashes 

without seede. 

XXV. 

' Thus all these fower (the which the 
groundwork bee 

Of all the world and of all living wights) 

To thousand sorts of Change we subject 
see: 

Yet are they chang'd (by other wondrous 
slights) 

Into themselves, and lose their native 
mights ; 

The Fire to Ayre, and th' Ayre to Water 
sheere. 

And Water into Earth ; yet Water fights 

With Fire, and Ayre with Earth, ap- 
proaching nee re : 

Yet all are in one body, and as one appeare. 

XXVI. 

' So in them all raignes Mutabilitie ; 
How-ever these, that Gods themselves do 
call. 



Of them do claime the rule and sover- 

ainty ; 
As Vesta, of the fire aethereall; 
Vulcan, of this with us so usuall ; 
Ops, of the earth ; and Juno, of the ayre; 
Neptune, of seas ; and Nymplies, of Rivers 

all: 
For all those Rivers to me subject are. 
And all the rest, which they usurp, be all 

my share. 



' Which to approven true, as I have told, 
V^ouchsafe, O Goddesse! to thy presence 

call 
The rest which doe the world in being hold ; 
As times and seasons of the yeare that 

fall : 
Of all the which demand in generall, 
Or judge thyselfe, by verdit of thine eye, 
Whether to me they are not subject all.' 
Nature did yeeld thereto ; and by-aud-by 
Bade Order call them all before her 

Majesty. 

XXVIII. 

So forth issew'd the Seasons of thei 

yeare. 
First, lusty Spring, all diglit in leaves of' 

flowres 
That freshly budded and new bloosmes 

did beare, 
(In which a thousand birds had built thein 

bowres 
That sweetly sung to call forth Paramours) 
And in his hand a javelin he did beare, 
And on his head (as fit for warlike stoures) 
A guilt engraven morion he did weare ; 
That as some did him love, so others did 

him feare. 

XXIX. 

Then came the jolly Sommer, being dighti 
In a thin silken cassock coloured greene, 
That was unlyned all, to be more light; 
And on his head a girlond well beseene 
He wore, from which, as he had chauffed 

been. 
The sweat did drop ; and in his hand he 

bore 
A boawe and shaftes, as he in forresfc 

greene 
Had hunted late the Libbard or the Bore, 
And now would bathe his limbes with 

labor heated sore. 



XXX. 

Then came the Autumne all in yellow 
clad, 
As though he joyed in his plentious store, 
Laden with fruits that made him laugh, 
full glad 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



539 



That he had banisht hunger, which to-fore 
Had by the belly oft him pinched sore : 
Upon his head a wreath, that was enrold 
With ears of corne of every sort, he bore ; 
And in his hand a sickle he did holde. 
To reape the ripened fruits the which the 
earth had yold. 



Lastly, came Winter cloathed all in 

frize. 
Chattering his teeth for cold that did him 

chill ; 
Whil'st on his hoary beard his breath did 

freese. 
And the dull drops, that from his purpled 

bill 
As from a limbeck did adown distill. 
In his right hand a tipped staff e he held, 
With which his feeble steps he stayed still ; 
For he was faint with cold, and weak 

with eld, 
That scarse his loosed limbes he hable 

was to weld. 



These, marching softly, thus in order 

went ; 
And after them the Monthes all riding 

came. 
First, sturdy March, with browns full 

sternly bent 
And armed strongly, rode upon a Ram, 
The same which over Hellespontus swam ; 
Yet in his hand a spade he also hent. 
And in a bag all sorts of seeds ysame. 
Which on the earth he strowed as he 

went. 
And fild her wombe with fruitfull hope 

of nourishment. 



Next came fresh Aprill, full of lustyhed, 
And wanton as a Kid whose home new 

buds : 
Upon a Bull he rode, the same which led 
Europa fioting through th' Argolick finds : 
His homes were gilden all with golden 

studs. 
And garnished with garlonds goodly 

dight 
Of all the fairest flowres and freshest buds 
AVhich th' earth brings forth ; and wet he 

seem'd in sight 
With waves, through which he waded for 

his loves delight. 



Then came faire May, the fayrest mayd 
on ground, 



Deckt all with dainties of her seasons 

pryde. 
And throwing flowres out of her laj) 

around : 
Upon two brethrens shoulders she did 

ride, 
The twinnes of Leda; which on eyther 

side 
Supported her like to their soveraigne 

Queene: 
Lord ! how all creatures laught when her 

they spide 
And leapt and daunc't as they had rav- 

isht beene ! 
And Cupid selfe about her fluttred all in 

greene. 

XXXV. 

And after her came jolly June, arrayd 
All in greene leaves, as he a Player were ; 
Yet in his time he wrought as w^ell as 

playd. 
That by his plough-yrons mote right well 



appeare. 
a Crs " 



Upon a Crab he rode, that him did beare 
With crooked crawling steps an uncouth 

pase. 
And backward yode, as Bargemen wont 

to fare 
Bending their force contrary to their 

face; 
Like that ungracious crew which faines 

demurest grace. 



Then came hot July boyling like to fire, 
That all his garments he had cast away. 
Upon a Lyon raging yet with ire 
He boldly rode, and made him to obay : 
It was the beast that whylome did forray 
The Nemaean forrest, till th' Amphy- 

trionide 
Him slew, and with his hide did him array. 
Behinde his back a sithe, and by his side 
Under his belt he bore a sickle circling 

wide. 

XXXVII. 

The sixt was August, being rich arrayd 
In garment all of gold downe to the 

ground ; 
Yet rode he not, but led a lovely Mayd 
Forth by the lilly hand, the which was 

cround 
With eares of corne, and full her hand 

was found ; 
That was the righteous Virgin, which of 

old 
Liv'd here on earth, and plenty made 

abound ; 
But after Wrong was lov'd, and Justice 

solde, 



540 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



She left th' unrighteous world, and was 
to heaven extold. 

XXXVIII. 

Next him September marched, eeke on 

foote, 
Yet was he heavy laden with the spoyle 
Of harvests riches, which he made his 

boot, 
And him enricht with bounty of the 

soyle : 
In his one hand, as fit for harvests toyle, 
He held a knife-hook ; and in th' other 

hand 
A paire of waights, with which he did 

assoyle 
Both more and lesse, where it in doubt 

did stand, 
And equall gave to each as Justice duly 

scann'd. 

xxxix. 

Then came October full of merry glee ; 
For yet his uoule was totty of the must, 
•Which he was treading in the wine-fats 

see, 
And of the joyous oyle, whose gentle 

gust 
Made him so f rollick and so full of lust : 
Upon a dreadfull Scorpion he did ride, 
The same which by Dianaes doom un- 
just 
Slew great Orion ; and eeke by his side 
He had his ploughing-share and coulter 
ready tyde. 

XL. 

Next was November; he full grosse 

and fat 
As fed with lard, and that right well 

might seeme ; 
For he had been a fatting hogs of late, 
That yet his browes with sweat did reek 

and steem. 
And yet the season was full sharp and 

breem: 
In planting eeke he took no small delight. 
Whereon he rode not easie was to deeme ; 
For it a dreadfull Centaure was in sight, 
The seed of Saturne and faire Nais, 

Chiron hight. 

XLI. 

And after him came next the chill 
December : 

Yet he, through merry feasting which he 
made 

And great bonfires, did not the cold re- 
member; 

His Saviour's birth his mind so much did 
glad. 

Upon a shaggy-bearded Goat he rode, 



The same wherewith Dan Jove in tender 

yeares. 
They say, was nourisht by th' Idaean 

mayd ; 
And in his hand a broad deepe boawle he i 

beares, 
Of which he freely drinks an health to all if 

his peeres. 

XLII. 

Then came old January, wrapped well 
In many weeds to keep the cold away ; 
Yet did he quake and quiver, like to 

quell. 
And blowe his nayles to warme them if he 

may; 
For they were numbd with holding all the 

day 
An hatchet keene, with which he felled 

wood 
And from the trees did lop the needlesse 

spray : 
Upon an huge great Earth-pot steane he 

stood, 
From whose wide mouth there flowed 

forth the Romane Flood. 



And lastly came cold February, sitting 
In an old wagon, for he could not ride, 
Drawne of two fishes, for the season 

fitting. 
Which through the flood before did softly 

slyde 
And swim away : yet had he by his side 
His plough and harnesse fit to till the 

ground. 
And tooles to prune the trees, before the 

pride 
Of hasting Prime did make them burgein 

round. 
So past the twelve Months forth, and 

their dew places found. 

XLIV. 

And after these, there came the Day 

and Night, 
Riding together both with equall pase, 
Th' one on a Palfrey blacke, the other 

white ; 
But Night had covered her uncomely face 
With a blacke veile, and held in hand a 

mace. 
On top whereof the moon and stars were 

pight ; 
And sleep and darknesse round about 

did trace : 
But Day did beare upon his scepters 

hight 
The goodly Sun encompast all with 

beames bright. 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



541 



Then came the Howres, faire daughters 

of high Jove 
And timely Night; the which were all 

eudewed 
With wondrous beauty fit to kindle love ; 
But they were virgins all, and love 

eschewed 
That might forslack the charge to them 

foreshewed 
By mighty Jove ; who did them porters 

make 
Of heavens gate (whence all the gods 

issued) 
Which they did daily watch, and nightly 

wake 
By even turnes, ne ever did their charge 

forsake. 

XLVI. 

And after all came Life, and lastly 

Death ; 
Death with most grim and griesly visage 

seene, 
Yet is he nought but parting of the breath ; 
Ne ought to see, but like a shade to 

weene, 
Unbodied, unsoul'd, unheard, unseene: 
But Life was like a faire young lusty 

boy, 
Such as they faine Dan Cupid to have 

beene, 
Full of delightful! health and lively joy, 
Deckt all with flowres, and wings of gold 

fit to employ. 



When these were past, thus gan the 

Titanesse : 
'Lo! mighty mother, now be judge, and 

say 
Whether in all thy creatures more or lesse 
Change doth not raign and bear the 

greatest sway; 
For who sees not that Time on all doth 

pray? 
But Times do change and move contin- 
ually : 
So nothing heere long standeth in one 

stay : 
Wherefore this lower world who can 

deny 
But to be subject still to Mutability ? ' 

XLVIII. 

Then thus gan Jove : ' Right true it is, 

that these 
And all things else that under heaven 

dwell 
Are chaung'd of Time, who doth them all 

disseise 



Of being: But who is it (to me tell) 

That Time himselfe doth move, and still 
compell 

To keepe his course ? Is not that namely 
wee 

Which poure that vertue from our heav- 
enly cell 

That moves them all, and makes them 
changed be? 

So them we gods do rule, and in them 
also thee.' 

XLIX. 

To whom thus Mutability : ' The things, 
Which we see not how they are mov'd 

and swayd 
Ye may attribute to your selves as Kings, 
And say, they by your secret powre are 

made: 
But what we see not, who shall us per- 

swade? 
But were they so, as ye them faine to be, 
Mov'd by your might and ordered by 

your ayde, 
Yet what if I can prove, that even yee 
Your selves are likewise chang'd, and 

subject unto mee? 



' And first, concerning her that is the 

first, 
Even you, faire Cynthia; whom so much 

ye make 
Joves dearest darling, she was bred and 

nurst 
On Cynthus hill, whence she her name 

did take ; 
Then is she mortall borne, how-so ye 

crake : 
Besides, her face and countenance every 

day 
We changed see and sundry formes 

partake. 
Now hornd, now round, now bright, now 

brown e and gray ; 
So that " as changefull as the Moone " men 

use to say. 

LI. 

' Next Mercury ; who though he lesse 

appeare 
To change his hew, and alwayes seeme as 

one. 
Yet he his course doth alter every yeare. 
And is of late far out of order gone. 
So Venus eeke, that goodly Paragone, 
Though faire all night, yet is she darke all 

day : 
And Phoebus selfe, who lightsome is alone, 
Yet is he oft eclipsed by the way. 
And fills the darkned world with terror 

and dismay. 



542 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



[book VII. 



' Now Mars, that valiant man, is changed 

most ; 
For he sometimes so far runnes out of 

square. 
That he his way doth seem quite to have 

lost. 
And cleane without his usuall spheere to 

fare ; 
That even these Star-gazers stonisht are 
At sight thereof, and damne their lying 

bookes : 
So likewise grim Sir Saturne oft doth spai'e 
His Sterne aspect, and calme his crabbed 

lookes. 
So many turning cranks these have, so 

many crookes. 



' But you, Dan Jove, that only constant 

are, 
And King of all the rest, as ye doe clame, 
Are you not subject eeke to this misfare? 
Then, let me aske you this withouten 

blame; 
Where were ye borne ? Some say in Crete 

by name, 
Others in Thebes, and others other-where ; 
But, wheresoever they comment the same, 
They all consent that ye begotten were 
And borne here in this world ; ne other 

can appeare. 



' Then are ye mortall borne, and thrall 

to me 
Unlesse the kingdome of the sky yee make 
Immortall and unchangeable to be : 
Besides,, that power and vertue which ye 

spake. 
That ye here worke, doth many changes 

take. 
And your owne natures change ; for each 

of you, 
That vertue have or this or that to make, 
Is checkt and changed from his nature 

trew, 
By others opposition or obliquid view. 



' Besides, the sundry motions of your 

Spheares, 
So sundry wayes and fashions as clerkes 

faiue, 
Some in short space, and some in longer 

yeares. 
What is the same but alteration plaine ? 
Onely the starry skie doth still remaine : 
Yet do the Starres and Signes therein 

still move, 



And even itselfe is mov'd, as wizards 

saine: 
But all that moveth doth mutation love ; 
Therefore both you and them to me I 

subject prove. 

LVI. 

* Then, since within this wide great 
Universe 

Nothing doth firme and permanent ap- 
peare. 

But all things tost and turned by trans- 
verse, 

What then should let, but I aloft should 
reare 

My Trophee, and from all the triumph 
beare ? 

Now judge then, (O thou greatest god- 
desse trew) 

According as thy selfe doest see and heare, 

And unto me addoom that is my dew ; 

That is, the rule of all, all being rul'd by 
you.' 

LVII. 

So having ended, silence long ensewed ; 
Ne Nature to or fro spake for a space, 
But with firme eyes affixt the ground still 

viewed. 
Meane-whiie all creatures, looking in her 

face. 
Expecting th' end of this so doubtf ull case, 
Did hang in long suspence what would 

ensew, 
To whether side should fall the soveraine 

place : 
At length she, looking up with chearefull 

view, 
The silence brake, and gave her doome in 

speeches few. 

LVIII. 

' I well consider all that ye have said. 
And find that all things stedfastnesse do 

hate 
And changed be ; yet, being rightly wayd. 
They are not changed from their first 

estate ; 
But by their change their being do dilate. 
And turning to themselves at length 

againe, 
Do worke their owne perfection so by 

fate: 
Then over them Change doth not rule and 

raigne. 
But they raigne over Change, and do their 

states maintaine. 



' Cease therefore, daughter, further to 
aspire, 



CANTO VII.] 



THE FAERIE QUEENE. 



543 



And thee couteut thus to be rul'd by mee, 
For thy decay thou seekst by thy desire ; 
But time shall come that all shall changed 

bee, 
And from thenceforth none no more change 

shal see.' 



So was the Titanesse put downe and whist, 
And Jove confirm 'd in his imperiall see. 
Then was that whole assembly quite dis- 

mist. 
And Natur's selfe did vanish, whither no 

man wist. 



THE VIII. CANTO. Unperfite. 



I. 

When I bethinke me on that speech 

whyleare 
Of Mutabilitie, and well it way! 
Me seemes, that though she all unworthy 

were 
Of the Heav'ns Rule ; yet, very sooth to 

say, 
In all things else she beares the greatest 

sway: 
Which makes me loath this state of life 

so tickle, 
And love of things so vaine to cast away ; 
Whose flowring pride, so fading and so 

fickle, 
Short Time shall soon cut down with his 

consuming sickle. 



Then gin I thinke on that which Nature 

sayd. 
Of that same time when no more Change 

shall be, 
But stedfast rest of all things, firmely 

stayd 
Upon the pillours of Eternity, 
That is contrayr to Mutabilitie; 
For all that moveth doth in Change 

delight ; 
But thence-forth all shall rest eter- 
nally 
With Him that is the God of Sabaoth 

hight : 
O ! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that 

Sabaoths sight ! 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



Page 5 (Letter of the Authors), 1, 29, vi. 
All the early editions read v. 

P. 8 (Verses to the Author), col. 1, 1. 4, 
faire (1609), /are (1590). 

P. 8 (Verses to the Author), col. 1, 1. 8, 
reeden (1609). The 4to. 1590 has reede. 

P. 12 (Verses by the Author), col. 2, 1. 18, 
soverains. The 4to. 1590 reads aoverain, but 
fol. 1611 has soveraigiie.'i. 

Page 14, book i. Prol., stanza 4, line 5, my 
feeble (1596), mine feeble (1590). 

P. 16, bk. I. c. i. St. 12, 1. 5, your ntroke. The 
4to. 1590 reads your hardy stroke ; but it is cor- 
rected in 'Faults escaped in the Print,' though 
the incorrect reading is retained in the 4to. 1596, 
and in the fol. 1611. 

P. 16, bk. I. c. i. St. 15, 1. 7, shapes (1590), 
shape (1596). 

P. 17, bk. I. c. i. St. 21, 1. 5, later spring. 
The editions of 1590, 1596, and 1611 read later 
ebbe gins V avale {to a rale), but this lection is 
corrected in 'Faults escaped in the Print.' 

P. 18, bk. I. c. i. St. '23, 1. 9, oft (1590), ? off 
(Collier). 

P. 18, bk. I. c. i. St. 24, 1. 8, raft (1590), reft 
(1609). 

P. 18, bk. I. c. i. St. 30, 1. 9, sits (1590), fits 
(1609). 

P. 20, bk. I. c. i. St. 42, 1. 8, sights. The 4to. 
1590 reads sighes. In the ' Faults escajjed in the 
Print ' we are told to read sights. 

P. 21, bk. I. c. i. St. 50, 1. 3, He thought hare 
(1590), He thought V have (1611). 

P. 21, bk. I. c. i. St. 50, 1. 8, can (1590), gan 
(1679). 

P. 22. bk. I. c. ii. Arg. 1. 3, stead (1596). The 
4to. 1590 has steps. 

P. 24, bk. I. c. ii. st. 14, 1. 4, et passim (Books 
I. II. III.) o/"(1596), 0/(1596). 

P. 24, bk. I. c. ii. st. 17, 1. 5, cruell spies. 
The 4tos. 1590. 1596, and fol. 1609 read cruelties, 
which is corrected in ' Faults escaped in the 
Print.' 

P. 24, bk. I. c. ii. st. 17, 1. 9, die (1609), dies 
(1590). 

P. 24, bk. I. c. ii. st. 18, 1. 1, quoth (1596), qd. 
(1590). 

P. 25, bk. I. c. ii. st. 19, 1. 9, et passim (Books 
I. II. III.) ichither (1596), whether (1590). 

P. 25, bk. I. c. ii. st. 22, 1. 5, thy (1590), your 
(1596). 

P. 26, bk, I. c. ii. st. 29, 1. 2, shade him thither 
(1590), shade thither (1596), shadotc thither 
(1609). 

P. 26, bk. I. c. ii. St. 29, 1. 3, noio ymounted. 



now that mou7ited (1590, 1596). The reading in 
the text is found in ' Faults escaped in the 
Print.' 

P. 26, bk. I. c. ii. st. 32, 1. 9, plaints (1596), 
plants (1590). 

P. 33, bk. I. c. iii. st. 38, 1. 7, the (1590), that 
in errata. 

P. 36, bk. I. c. iv. St. 16, 1. 3, hurtlen (1590), 
hurlen (1609). 

P. 37, bk. I. c. iv. St. 23, 1. 7, dry dropsie (1590), 
? dire dropsie (Upton), hydropsy (Collier). 

P. 37, bk. I. c. iv. St. 24, 1. 3, whally (1590), 
walled (?). 

P. 38, bk. I. c. iv. St. 27, 1. 6, pelfe (1596), pelpe 
(1590). 

P. 38, bk. I. c. iv. St. 29, 1. 9, fourth (1596), forth 
(1590). 

P. 38, bk. I. c. iv. St. 80, 1. 4, c7iaio (1590), jaw 
(1609). 

P. 38, bk. I. c. iv. St. 30, 1. 6, neighbours (1596), 
neibors (1590). 

P. 38, bk. I. c. iv. St. 82, 1. 9,,fifte,flrst (1590), 
hwi Jifte is among the errata in ' Faults escaped 
in the Print.' 

P. 39, bk. I. c. iv. St. 89, 1. 2, faery (1596), /ary 
(1590). 

P. 40, bk. I. c. iv. St. 41, 1. 9, renrerst (1590), 
re'nverst (1609). 

P. 40, bk. I. c. iv. St. 43, 11. 1, 3, pledge, edge 
(1596), pledg, edg (1590). 

P. 41, bk. i. c. V. St. 2, 1. 5, hurld. The 4to. 
1590 has A?<r/s, hut hurld is in 'Faults escaped 
in the Print.' The editions 1596, 1609 retain the 
incorrect reading. 

P. 42, bk. I. c. V. st. 7, 1. 9, And he/iren helmets 
deepe (1590), And helmets heiren deepe (1596). 

P. 43, bk. I. c. V. St. 15, 1. 2, ihristy (1590), 
thirstie (1596). 

P. 46, bk. I. c. V. St. 35, 1. 9, leke (1590), leake 
(1596). 

P. 46, bk. I. c. V. St. 38, 1. 6, cliffs. The editions 
1590, 1596. and 1609 read cliffs. The correction 
is supplied in ' Faults escaped in the Print.' 

P. 47, bk. I. c. V. St. 41, I. 2, nigh (1590), high 
(1596). 

P. 48, bk. I. c. V. St. 52, 1. 9, ensewd (1596), 
e7isewed (1590). 

P. 49, bk. I. c. vi. St. 1, 1. 5, in. The 4tos. and 
folio 1609 read it, though in is among the errata. 

P. 51. bk. I. c. vi. St. 15, 1. 2, Or Bacchus (1590), 
Of Bacchus (1596) : Hughes, If Bacchus. 

P. 52. bk. I. c. vi. St. 23, 1. 8,' nousled (1590), 
noursled (1596). 

P. 52, bk. I. c. vi. St. 26, 1. 5, ffera and fell 
(1596), swift and Qru^ll (1590). 



545 



546 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



P. 53, bk. I. c. vi. St. 33, 1. 9, woodis (1596), toods 
(1590). 

P. 54, bk. I. c. vi. St. 89, 1. 7, he (1596), she 
(1590). 

P. 55, bk. I. c. vi. St. 47, 1. 8, tojighl (1590), two 
fight (1611). 

P. 57, bk. I. c. vii. st. 12, 1. 9, stound (1596), 
stoond (1590). 

P. 57, bk. i.'c. vii. st. 13, 1. 8, smoA:6 (1596), smok 
(1590). 

P. 58, bk. I. c. vii. st. 18, 11. 4, 5, brought, 
naught (1590), brought, nought (1596). 

P. 58, bk. I. c. vii. st. 20, 1. 3, that (1590), t?i,e 
(1596). 

P. 58, bk. I. c. vii. st. 22, 1. 9, sight is omitted 
in 4to. 1590, but is found in the 4to. 1596. 

P. 59, bk. I. c. vii. st. 29, 1. 4, glitterand (1590), 
glitter and (1679). 

P. 60, bk. I. c. vii. st. 32, 1. 18, whose (1609), 
her (1590). 

P. 60, bk. I. c. vii. st. 37, 1. 7. trample (1596), 
amble (1590). 

P. 60, bk. I. c. vii. st. 37, 1. 8, chauft (1596), 
chaust (1590). 

P. 61, bk. I. c. vii. st. 43, 1. 5, ronne. The 4to. 
1590 has come, which is amended in 'Faults es- 
caped in the Print.' 

P. 62, bk. I. c. vii. st. 47, 1. 3, hands (1596). 
The 4to. 1590 reads hand. 

P. 62, bk. I. c. vii. st. 52, 1. 4, That. All the 
early editions read that, but ? the. 

P. 63, bk. I. c. viii. Arg. 1. 3, that gyaunt (1590, 
1596), but the gyaunt is among the errata. 

P. 63, bk. I. c. viii. st. 1, 1. 6, through (1596), 
thorough (1590). 

P. 64, bk. I. c. viii. st. 7, 1. 6, wise. The 4to. 
1590 reads wist, which is corrected in ' Faults es- 
caped in the Print.' 

P. 66, bk. I. c. viii. st. 21, 1. 5, their ? his, i. e. 
Argoglio's (Church). 

P. 66, bk. I. c. viii. st. 21, 1. 7, powre (1596), 
poure (1590). 

P. 66, bk. I. c. viii. st. 22, 1. 4, right (so in all 
old editions). Most modern editions read left. 

P. 66, bk. I. c. viii. st. 24, 1. 6, his (1596), her 
(1590). 

P. 69, bk. I. c. viii. st. 44, 1. 4, delight, ? dislike 
(Upton). 

P. 70, bk. I. c. ix, Arg. 1. 2, bands (1596). The 
text of the 4to. 1590 reads hands, but bands is 
in ' Faults escaped in the Print.' 

P. 71, bk. I. c. ix. St. 9, 1. 3, the (among the 
errata in ' Faults escaped in the Print.)' Ed. 
1590 reads that, a lection which Church defends. 

P. 71, bk. I. c. ix. St. 12, 1. 9, on (from 'Faults 
escaped in the Print ' ). The text has at. 

P. 72, bk. I. c. ix. St. 17, 1. 8, prowes (1590), 
prowesse (1609). 

P. 74, bk. I. c. ix. St. 32, 1. 7, glee (1590), ? fee 
(Church). 

P. 74. bk. I. c. ix. St. 33, 1. 3, clif in errata, 
clift (1590). 

P. 74, bk. I. c. ix. St. 33, 1. 3, ypiglit (1596), 
y plight (1590). 

P. 74, bk. I. St. 35, 1. 4, griesie (1590), griesly 
(1611). 

P. 75, bk. I. c. ix. St. 42, 1. 7, holds. The 4to. 
1590 reads hold. 

P. 76, bk. I. c. ix. St. 46, 1. 7, falsed (1596), 
falsest (1590). 



P. 77, bk. 1. c. ix. St. 52, 1. 1, saw (1596), heard 
(1590). 

P. 77, bk. I. c. ix. St. 52, 1. 3, reliv'd (1590), 
relieved (1611). 

P. 77, bk. f. c. ix. St. 53, 1. 2, feeble (1590), seelv 
(1596), silly (1609). 

P. 77, bk. I. c. ix. St. 53, 1. 6, greater (1596), 
greter (1590). 

P. 80, bk. I. c. X. St. 20, 1. 5, Dry-shod, &c. 
This hne is found in fol. 1609, but is omitted in 
the 4tos. 

P. 81, bk. I. c. X. St. 27, 1. 6, I/is blamefull 
body in salt water sore (1590), His body in salt 
water smarting sore (1596). 

P. 82, bk. I. c. X. St. 36, 1. 4, their. The 4to. 
1590 reads there. 

P. 84, bk. I. c. X. St. 52, 1. 6, Brings. The 4to. 
1590 has Bring. 

P. 84, bk. I. c. X. St. 52, 1. 6, them (1590) ? him 
or for traveiler (1. 4) read travellers. 

P. 85, bk. I. c. X. St. 57, 1. 5, pretious, adopted 
from the errata in ' Faults escaped in the Print.' 
The text of the 4to. 1590 has piteous, which is 
retained by the fol. 1611. 

P. 85, bk. I. c. x. St. 59, I. 2, frame. The edi- 
tions of 1590, 1596, 1609, 1611, read /awe, though 
frame is among the errata in ' Faults escaped in 
the Print.' 

P. 86, bk. I. c. X. St. 62, 1. 4, As wretched, &c. 
(1590). The 4to. 1596 reads Quothhe, as loretched 
and liv'd in like paine. 

P. 86, bk. I. c. X. St. 62, 1. 8, And bitter bat- 
tailes, &c. (1590), And battailes none are to be 
fought (1596). 

P. 86, bk. I. c. X. St. 62, 1. 9, they (1590) is omit- 
ted in 1596 and 1611. 

P. 86, bk. I. c. X. St. 65, 1. 3, face (1590), place 
(1596). 

P. 87, bk. I. c. xi. St. 3. This stanza is not 
found in the fir.st 4to., but is in second 4 to. 1596. 

P. 90, bk. I. c. xi. St. 22, 1 1, his (1590), ? the 
(Church). 

P. 90, bk. I. c. xi. St. 26, 1. 6, swinged (1590), 
singed (1609). 

P. 91, bk. I. c. xi. St. 30, 1. 5, one. The 4tos. 
read its though one is in ' Faults escaped in the 
Print.' Mr. CoUier says there is no authority for 
reading one. 

P. 92, bk. I. c. xi. St. 37, 1. 2, lyelled (1609), 
yelded (1590). 

P. 92, bk. I. c. xi. St. 41, 1. 4, Nor (1609), For 
(4tos. 1590, 1596). 

P. 94, bk. I. c. xi. St. 54, 1. 7, poyse (1590) ? 
noyse. 

P. 96, bk. I. c. xii. st. 11, 1. 2, too (1596), to 
(1590). 

P. 96, bk. I. c. xii. st. 11, 1. 4, gossibs (1590), 
gossips (1596). 

P. 97, bk. I. c.-xii. st. 17, 1. 4, note (1590), no'te 
(1596). 

P. 99, bk. I. c. xii. st. 32, 1. 6, wylie (1596), 
toiely (1590). 

P. 99, bk. I. c. xii. st. 34, 1. 2, vaine, adopted 
from the errata. The text of the 4to. 1590 has 
faine. Church thinks that /a^'ne =/««^ne(? or 
feigned is a good reading. 

P. 99, bk. I. c. xii. st. 34, 1. 3, improvided (1590), 
unprovided is found in some modern editions. 

P. 99, bk. I. c. xii. st. 36, 1. 7, bains (1690), 
banes (1596). 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



547 



p. 100, bk. I. c. xii. st. 39, 1. 9, f^prite (1590). 
Some later editions, as 1611, read npreete. 

P. 100, bk. I. c. xii. st. 40, 1. 9, His (1590), Her 
(1596). 

P. 101, bk. II. Prol. St. 2, 1. 8, Amazon. The 
fol. 1609, following- the text of -Ito. 1590, reads 
Amazons, but Amazon is among the errata in 
' Faults escaped in the Print.' 

P. 101, bk. II. Prol. St. 4, 1. 6, thou (1596), tJien 
(1590). 

P. 102, bk. II. c. i. St. 3, 1. 2, food (1590), /e«rf^ 
(1609). 

P. 103, bk. II. c. i. St. 12, 1. 9, chalenge (1596), 
chaleng (1590). 

P. 104, bk. II. c. i. St. 16, 1. 1, Uefe (1596, 1609), 
life (1590). 

■ P. 104, bk. II. c. i. St. 20, 1. 2, quit (1590), qiiite 
(1596). 

P. 104, bk. II. c. i. St. 20, 1. T, blotted (1596), 
blotting (1590). 

P. 106, bk. II. c. i. St. 2S, 1. 3, ^cell becommeth 
(1590, 1596), ill heeommeth (1679). 

P. 106, bk. II, c. i. St. 31, 1. 4, on (1596), 07i6 
(1590). 

P. 106, bk. II. c. i. St. 32, 1. 7, mmt (1596), most 
(1590). 

P. 106, bk. II. c. i. St. 33, 1. 8, thrise is adopted 
from the errata of 4to. 1590, but these occurs in all 
old editions. 

P. 106, bk. II. c. i. St. 34, 1. 6, steedy (1590), 
steadie (1609). 

P. 107, bk. n. c. i. st. 39, 1. 4, dolour (1590), 
labour (1596). 

P. 108, bk. II. c. i. St. 42, 1. 9, stout courtage 
(1590), courage stout {1609). 

P. 108, bk. II. c. i. St. 47, 1. 2, sight (1590), 
sigh't (1609). 

P. 110, bk. II. c. i. St. 58, 1. i,frye (1590), ? fryse 
(Church). 

P. 110, bk. II. c. i. St. 59, 1, 2, common (1596), 
eommen (1590). 

P. 110, bk. II c. i. St. 59, 1. 8, great (1596), greet 
(1590>. 

P. Ill, bk. II. c. il. St. 4, 1. 3, lieu (1590), Hove 
(Church). 

P. Ill, bk, II. c. ii. St. 5, 1. 3, hard (1596), hart 
(1590). 

P. Ill, bk. II. c. ii. St. 7, 1. 7, pray (Collier), 
It is chace in all the old editions. 

P. 112, bk. II. c. ii. St. 12, 1. 8, fame (1596), 
frame (1590). 

P. 113, bk. II. c. ii. St. 21, 1. 2, hond (1609), 
hand (1596), 

P. 114, bk. II. c. ii. St. 28, 1. 2, their champions. 
The 4to. 1590 reads her champions, but 4td. 1596 
lias their champion. 

P. 114, bk. II. c. ii. St. 30, 1. 1, there (1609), their 
(1.590, 1596). 

P. 114, bk. II. c. ii. St. 30,1. 3, bloodguiltinesse 
(1609), bloodguiltnesse (1590, 1596). 

P. 115, bk. II. c. ii. St. 34, 1. 9, her (1590), their 
(1596). 

P. 115, bk. II. c, ii. st, 38, 1. 5. foricard (1590), 
? froward (cf. 1. 7 of st. 38). 

P. 116, bk. II. c. ii. St. 42, 1, 6, to hold. All the 
old editions read to make. 

P. 116, bk. II. c. ii. St. 44, 1. 4, enrold. The 4to. 
1590 reads entrold, the fol. 1609 introld. 

P. 117, bk. II. c. iii. st. 3, 1. 7, heard (1596), 
hard (1590). 



P. 117, bk. II. c. iii. st. 4, 1. 5, A pleasing vaine 
of glory, &c. (1590), A pleasing vaine of glory 
vaine did find (1596). 

P. 117, bk. II. c. iii. st. 6, 1. 9, ' Mercy r loud 
(.so all old editions), ? ' Mercy, Lord ! ' 

P. 118, bk. II. c. iii. st. 11, 1. 4, courser (1596), 
course (1590). 

P. 119, bk. II. c. iii. st. 20, 1. 5, does greatly 
them affeare (1590), their haire on end does 
reare (1596). For greatly (in the errata) the 
text of the 4to. 1500 has unto. 

P. 120, bk. II. c. iii. st. 26, 1. 9, fringe (so all 
the 4tos.). 

P. 121, bk. II. c. iii. st. 35, I. 4, many bold em- 
prize (1590), 'imany a bold emprize (Jortin). 

P. 123, bk. II. c. iii. st. 45, 1. 4, one foot (1609), 
on foot (1590). 

P. 123, bk. II. c. iii. st. 46, 1. 9, erne (1590), 
yerne (1609). 

P. 123, bk. II. c. iv. Arg. 1. 3, Phaon (1590), 
Phedon (1596). 

P. 123, bk. II. c. iv. St. 4, 1. 6, loosely (1596), 
loosly (1590). 

P. 124, bk. II. c. iv. St. 12, 1. 3, hong (1590), 
hung (1609). 

P. 124, bk. II. c. iv. St. 12, 1. 8, tonge. The 
text has tongue, which is altered to tonge in the 
errata of the'4to. 1590. 

P. 124, bk. II. c. iv. St. 13, 1. 6, note (1590), 
noHe (1609). 

P. 125, bk. II. c. iv. St. 17, 1. 6, one (1596), wretch 
(1590). 

P. 125, bk. 11. c. iv. St. 17, 1. 8, occasion (1596), 
her guilful trech (1590). 

P. 125; bk. II. c. iv. St. 17, 1. 9, light upon (1596), 
wandring ketch (1590). 

P. 125, bk. II. c. iv. St. 18, 1. 5, chose (1590), 
chuse (1609). 

P. 125, bk. II. c. iv. St. 18, 1. 8, Or (1590), Our 
(1609). 

P. 128, bk. II. c. iv. St. 38, 1. 4, this word was (so 
all the old editions), these words were (Hughes's 
second edition). 

P. 128, bk. II. c. iv. St. 40, 1. 3, s/iould (1596), 
shold (1590). 

P. 129, bk. II. c. iv. St. 45, 1. 5, that did fight 
(1590), thus to fight (1590). 

P. 129, bk. II. c. V. Arg. 1. 1, Pyrochles, &c. 
(1590). The second 4to. 1596 reads : - 

Pyrrochles does loith Guyon fight. 
And Furors chayne unbinds ; 

Of whom sore hu7-t,for his revenge 
Attin Cymochles finds. 

P. 180, bk. II. c. V, St. 5, 1. 9, doe me not much 
fayl (1.590), doe not much mefaile (1596). 

P. 130. bk. II. c. V. St. 8, 1, 7, hurtle (1590), 
hurle (1596), hurlen (1611). 

P. 130, bk. 11. c, V. St. 10, 1. 7, enimyes (1596), 
enimye (1590). 

P. iSl. bk. II. c. V. St. 15, 1. 9, who selfe (1590), 
ivhose selfe (1609), 

P. 132, bk, II, c. V. St. 19, 1. 4, shee (1609), hee 
(1590, 1596). 

P, 132, bk. II. c. V. St. 19, 1. 7, ga7-re (1590), do 
(1596). 

P. 132, bk. II. c. V. St. 21, 1. 7, occasions (1590), 
occasion (1609). 

P. 132, bk. II. c. V. St. 22, 1. 5, spight (159:)), 
spright (1609). 



548 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



P. 132, bk. II. c. V. St. 23, 1. 1, that (1590), the 
(lfi09). 

P. 183, bk. II. c. V. St. 29, 1. 5, prickling (1590), 
pricking (159(3). 

P. 133, bk. II. c. V. St. 31, 1. 5, In Nemus 
gai/ned, &c. (1590), Gaynd in Nemea (1596). 

P. 133, bk. II. c. V. St. 32, 1. C, meriments. All 
old copies read meriment. 

P. 134, bk. II. c. V. St. 34, 1. 8, .SV> he them (1590), 
ASo/Aem (1596 and 1609). 

P. 135, bk. II. c. vi. St. 1, 1. 7, ahstaine (1590), 
reatraine (1596). 

P. 135, bk. II. c. vi. St. 3, 1. 4. As merry as 
Pope Jone (1590), that nigh her breath was 
gone (1596). 

P. 135, bk. II. c. vi. St. 3, 1. 6, That to her 
might move (1590), That might to her tnove 
(1596). 

P. 136, bk. II. c. vi. St. 12, 1. 9, and throtoe her 
Hweete smels, &c. (1590), and her sweet smells 
throw, &c. (1596). 

P. 136, bk. II. c. vi. St. 14, 1. 9, wJiiles (1596). 
whils (1590). 

P. 136, bk. II. c. vi. St. 14, 1. 9, love lay (1590), 
loud lay (1596). 

P. 137, bk. II. c. vi. St. 18, 1. 7. wave . . . griesy 
(1590), waves . . . griesly (1609). 

P. 137, bk. II. c. vi. St. 21, 1. 8, bonds (1590), 
bounds (1609). 

P. 13S, bk. II. c. vi. St. 27, 1. 9, t/iere (1596), 
their (1590). 

P. 138, bk. II. c. vi. St. 29, 1. 2, importune 
(1590), importance (1596), important (1609). 

P. 139, bk. II. c.vi. St. 38, 1. 5, salied (1590), 
sailed (1609). 

P. 140, bk. II. c. vi. St. 43, 1. 7, hath lent this 
cursed light (1596), hath lent but this his cursed 
light (1590). 

P. 141, bk. II. c. vi. St. 48, 1. 6, wondred (1596), 
woundred (1590). 

P. 141, bk. II. c. vi. St. 50, 1. 3, liver swell 
(1596), livers swell (1590). 

P. 141. bk. II. c. vi. St. 51, 1. 5, fire too inly 
(1696), fier inly (1590). 

P. 142, bk. II. c. vii. st. 1, 1. 2, to a stedfast 
starre, ? to the stedfast starre,i.e. the pole-star 
(Church) . 

P. 142, bk. II. c. vii. st. 3, 1. 9, fire-spitting 
{\o90), fire-speUing (1609). 

P. 142, bk. II. c. vii. st. 4, 1. 4, Well yet ap- 
peared (1590), Well it appeared (1596). 

P. 142. bk. II. c. vii. st. 5, 1. 6, Ingowes (1590), 
In goes (1596), Ingots (1679). 

P. 142, bk. II. c. vii. st. 5, 1. 9, straunge (1596), 
straung (1590). 

P. 142, bk. II. c. vii. st. 7, 1. 3, rich hits (1590), 
rich heapes (1596). 

P. 14^3, bk. II. c. vii. st. 10, 1. 1, ill besits (1590), 
ill befits {\m9). 

P. 143, bk. u. c. vii. st. 12. 1. 9, as great (1596), 
i7i great (1590). 

P. 144, bk. II. c. vii. st. 19, 1. 5, blood giiiltinesse 
(1609). blood guiltn esse (1590,1596). 

P. 144, bk. 11. c. vii. st. 21, 1. 5, internall 
Patpie (1590). ivfernall Payne (1596). Per- 
haps inf email Payne= i)ifernal punishment 
should stand in the text. Collier suggests eternal 
as an amended reading. 

P. 145. bk. II. c. vii. st. 24, 1. 7, ought (1596), 
nought (1590). 



P. 146, bk. II. c. vii. st. 36, 1. 4, yron (1596), 
dying (1590). 

■p. 146, bk. II. c. vii. st. 37, 1. 1, tvhen an (1590), 
when as (1596). 

P. 147, bk. II. 0. vii. st. 39, 1. 8, mesprise (1590), 
inespise (1596). 

P. 147, bk. II. c. vii. st. 40, 1. 7, golden (1596), 
yron (1590), 

P. 147, bk. II. c. ii. st. 40, 1. 7, But (1596), And 
(1590). 

P. 147, bk. II. c. vii. st. 41, 1. 3, sterne was his 
looke (1590), Sterne was to looke (1596). 

P. 149, bk. II. c. vii. st. 52, 1. 6, with which. 
All the old copies read whicli with. 

P. 150, bk. II. c. vii. st. 60, 1. 4, intemperate 
(1596), more temperate (1590). 

P. 150. bk. II. c. vii. st. 64, 1. 9, of his pray 
(1590), ofthepray{lb9Q). 

P. 151, bk. II. c. viii. st. 8, 1. 8, Come hither, 
hither (1609), Come hether. Come hether (1590). 

P. 153, bk. II. c. viii. st. 16, 1. 7, tomb-blacke 
(1596), Uwiblacke (1590). 

P. 154, bk. II.. c. viii. st. 25, 1. 1, Which those 
his cruell foes (from the errata in 'Faults es- 
caped in the Print'). The text of the 4tos. 
read : — 

Which those same foes that stand hereby, 
The folios (1609, 1611) have : — 
Which those same foes, thatdoen awaite hereby. 

P. 155, bk. II. c. viii. st. 29, 1. 7, upheave. All 
old editions read upreare. 

P. 155, bk. II. c. viii. st. 32, 1. 3, lodge (1596), 
lodg (1590). 

P. 155, bk. II. 0. viii. st. 35, 1. 5, in his (1590), 
on his (1609). 

P. 156, bk. II. c. viii. st. 87, 1. 3, rayle (1590), 
traile (1609). 

P. 156, bk. II. c. viii. st. 40, 1. 4, so well as he it 
ought (1590), so wisely as it ought {l?)'d9). 

P. 157, bk. II. c. viii. st. 44, 1. 8, no more (1596), 
not thore i.e. not there (1590). 

P. 157, bk. II. c. viii. st. 47, 1. 4, swerd (1590), 
sword (1596). 

P. 157, bk. II. c viii. st. 47, 1. 9, this (1590, 
1596, 1609, 1611), he (1679). 

P. 157, bk. II. c. viii. st. 48, 1. 8, Prince Arthur 
(1609), Sir Guyon{\b90). 

P. 157, bk. II. c. viii. st. 49, 1. 7, tred (1590), 
treed (?) 

P. 158, bk. II. c. viii. st. 55, 1. 3, bowing with. 
All the old editions read with bowing ; but with 
is directed to be deled among the errata in ' Faults 
escaped in the Print.' 

P. 159, bk. II. c. ix. St. 4, 1. 5, liefe (1590), life 
(1679). 

P. 159, bk. II. c. ix. St. 6, 1. 9, Arthegall (1596), 
Arthogall (1590). 

P. 159, bk. II. c. ix. St. 7, 1. 5, Seven times the 
Sunne (1590), Now hath the Sunne (1596). 

P. 159. bk. II. c. ix. St. 7, 1. 6, Hath walkte 
about (1590), Walkte round aboute (1596). 

P. 160, bk. II. c. ix. St. 9, 1. 1, weete. All old 
editions read wote. 

P. 161, bk. II. c. ix. St. 15, 1. 3, Capitaine 
(1609), Captaine (1590). 

P. 161, bk. II. c. ix. St. 18, 1. 3, woo'rf (1596), 
wooed (1590). 

P. 161. bk. II. c. ix. St. 21. 1. 1, them (1596), 
him (1590). 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



549 



p. 161, bk. II. c. ix. St. 21, 1. 3, fens idle (1590), 
sensible (1596). 

P. 162, bk. 11. c. ix. St. 28, 1. 4, meate (1590), 
meet (1679). 

P. 168. bk. 11. c. ix. St. 37, 1. 8, doeji you lore 
(1609), doen your love (1590). 

P. 163, bk. II. c. ix. St. 38, 1. 2, mood. All old 
editions read word. 

P. 164, bk. II. c. ix. St. 38, 1. 9, three years 
(1590), twelvemoneths (1596): 

P. 164, bk. II. c. ix. St. 41, 1. 7, Castory (from 
errata in ' Faults escaped in the Print '). The 
texts of 1590, 1596 read lastery. 

P. 164, bk. II. c. ix. St. 42, 1. 1, cheare (1596), 
elect re (1590). If the reader prefers cleare (the 
reading which Collier prints and defends), he 
must take it as a substantive in the sense of 
clearness, serenity. 

P. 165, bk. II. c. ix. St. 48, 1. 3, these (1596), 
this (1590). 

P. 165, bk. II. c. ix. St. 49, 1. 4, reason (so all 
copies). Mr. Collier says that in Drayton's copy 
of the fol. 1611 reason is altered to season. 

P. 165, bk. II. c. ix. St. 52, 1. 9, th' house (1609), 
the house (1590). 

P. 167, bk. II. c. X. St. 6, 1. 6, For safety that 
(1590), For safeties sake that (1596). 

P. 167, bk. 'ii. c. X. St. 7, 1. 7, liveden (1590), 
lived then (1596). 

P. 167, bk. II. c. X. St. 7, 1. 9, sternnesse (1596), 
sternesse (1590). 

P. 168, bk. II. c. X. St. 15, 1. 9, munificence 
(1596), m,unifience (1590). 

P. 169, bk. II. c. X. St. 19, 1. 5, upon the present 
floure (1590), in that impatient stoure (1596). 

P. 169, bk. II. c. X. St. 20, 1. 2, to sway (1590), 
of sway (1596). 

P. 170, bk. II. c. X. St. 24, 1. 8, it mote (1596), 
he mote (1590). 

P. 170. bk. II. c. X. St. 30, 1. 2, weeke (1590), 
icike (1609). 

P. 171, bk. II. c. X. St. 31, 1. 1, too (1596), to 
(1590). 

P. 171, bk. II. c. X. St. 34, 1. 7, then (1590), till 
(1.596), when (1609). 

P. 172, bk. II. c. X. St. 41, 1. 1, Gurgiunt 
(1590), Gwrffunt (1596). 

P. 172, bk. It. c. X. St. 43, 1. 1, Sisillus. All 
copies read Sif.llus. 

P. 173, bk. II. c. X. St. 53, 1. 2, in great (1.590), 
with great (1609). 

P. 175, bk. II. c. X. St. 65, 1. 9, have forst 
(1590), e»>r.v<(1596). 

P. 178, bk. II. c. xi. St. 9, 1. 9, they that Bul- 
warks sorely rent (1596), they against that Bul- 
warke lent (1590). 

P. 178, bk. II. c. xi. St. 10, 1. 2, assignment 
(1590), dessignment (1596). 

P. 178, bk. II. c. xi. St. 11, 1. 4, dismayd (so 
all editions, ancient and modern) but ? mis- 
mayd, i.e. mis-made, made amiss, mis-shaped, 
ill-shaped (Child). If this conjecture be rifrht, 
and it is extremely plausible, the comma after 
ape should be deled. Church thought that 
dismayd = dismayed (frightened), and that 
'Some like to houndes, some like to apes," 
should be read as in a parenthesis, so that di.s- 
mayd will refer to feends of hell, cf. 'ghastly 
spectacle dismayd,' ' F. Q.' bk. in. c. iii. st. 50, 
1. 3. 



P. 178, bk. II. c. xi. St. 13, 1. 2, is (1590), was 
(1596). 

P. 178. bk. II. c. xi. St. 13, 1. 5, assayed (1590), 
assay led (1596). 

P. 179, bk. II. c. xi. St. 21, I. 8, there . . . 
there (1609), their . . . their (1590). 

P. 181, bk. II. c. xi. St. 30, 1. 9, survive (among 
the errata in ' Faults escaped in the Print'). The 
texts of the 4to. 1590, and folios 1609, 1611 read 
revive. 

P. 181, bk. II. c. xi. St. 32, 1. 5, tmrest {159&), 
infest (1590). 

P. 183, bk. II. c. xii. Arg. 1. 1, by (1596) 
through (1590). 

P. 183, bk. II. c. xii. Arg. 1. 2, passing through 
(1596), through passing (1590). 

P. 184, bk. II. c. xii. st. 8, 1. 4, hoars (1590), 
hoarse (1596). 

P. 185, bk. II. c. xii. st. 13, 1. 9, Apolloes tem- 
ple (1.590), Apolloes honor (1596). 

P. 186, bk. II. c. xii. St. 21, 1. 1, heedful (1596), 
earnest (1590). 

P. 186, bk. II. c. xii. st. 23, 1. 9, monoceroses 
(Child), monoceros (1590). 

P. 187, bk. II. c. xii. s. 27, 1. 4, sea resounding 
(1609), sea the resounding (1590). 

P. 189, bk. II. c. xii. st. 39, 1. 8, upstaring 
(1.590), upstarting (1596). 

P. 189, bk. II. c. xii. st. 43, 1. 7, mightiest 
(1596), migtest (1590). 

P. 190, bk. II. c. xii. st. 47, 1. &, foresee (1609), 
forsee (1590). 

P. 190, bk. II. c. xii. st. 51, 1. 1, Thereioith 
(1590), Thereto (1596). 

P. 190, bk. II. c. xii. st. 54, 1. 7, Hyacine 
(1611), Ilyacint {\b9{)). 

P. 191. bk. II. c. xii. st. 60, 1. 5, curious yma- 
geree {\f)9^), pure imageree (1609). 

P. 191, bk. II. c. xii. st. 61, 1. 8, fearefully 
(1590), tenderly (1596). 

P. 193, bk. II. c. xii. St. 76, 1. 8, That (1596), 
Thot{\m(S). 

P. 193. bk. II. c. xii. st. 77, 1. 5, alablaster 
(1.590, 1596, 1609, 1611), alabaster (1679). 

P. 194, bk. II. c. xii. st. 81, 1. 4, that same 
(1596), the same (1590). 

P. 194, bk. II. c. xii. st. 83, 1. 7, spoyle (1590), 
spoyld (1596). 

P. 196, bk. III. c. i. Prol. st.l , 1. 2, The fayrest 
(1590). That faijrest {\m&). 

P. 196. bk. III. c. i. Prol. st. 4, 1. 2, thy selfe 
thou (1590). your selfe you (1596). 

P. 196, bk. III. c. i. Arg. 1. 3, Jfalecasfaes (from 
errata in ' Faults escaped in the Print'). The 
texts of 4tos. 1590, 1596, and folios 1609, 1611, 
read Materastaes. 

P. 202, bk. III. c. i. St. 41, 1. 8, lightly (1609), 
highly (1590). 

P. 203, bk. III. c. i. St. 47, 1. 7, which (1596), 
that (1590). 

P. 203, bk. III. c. i. St. 48, 1. 2, brust (1590), 
burst (1609). 

P. 204, bk. III. c. i. St. 56, 1. 8, Bascimano 
(1590), Bascio mani (1609). 

P. 204. bk. III. c. i. St. 60, 1. 8, \vary (1609), 
weary {Xh'dO). 

P. 204, bk. III. c. i. St. 60, 1. 9, fond (1590), 
fand (1609). 

P. 206, bk. III. c. ii. st. 8, 1. 6, too (1596), to 
(1590). 



55° 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



p. 200, bk. III. c. ii. st. 4, 1. 1, She traveiling 
with Giiyon by the wny (so all old editions). 
Upton proposed to read the, RedcrouHe Knight 
instead of 6^ wy6>;i. Todd suggested Redcrosfie, 
and Drayton, according to (Jollier, proposed S. 
George. 

P. 'i07, bk. III. c. ii. st. 8, 1. 5, Which to prove 
(1590), Which I to prom (1596). 

P. '207, bk. HI. c. ii. st. 15, 1. 4, allegge (1590), 
alledge (1679). . 

P. 208, bk. III. c. ii. St. 16, 1. 9, part (1590), 
point (1609). Mr. Collier saj^s that Todd was a 
careless collator, yet Todd is right in saying that 
tlxe folios read point, and Mr. Collier is wrong in 
asserting that they read part. 

P. 210, bk. III. c. ii. st. 30, 1. 5, her in her 
xourme ^e(/(1590), in her warme bed her dight 
(1596). 

P. 211, bk. III. c. ii. St. 44, 1. 1, minde (1590), 
mine (1609). 

P. 212, bk. III. c. ii. st. 50, 1. 2, breaded (1590), 
braided (1609). 

P. 213, bk. III. c. iii. st. 1, 1. 1, ifostt (1590), Oh ! 
(1609). 

P. 213, bk. III. c. iii. st. 3, 1. 1, dredd (1590), 
drad (1609). 

P. 213, bk. III. c. iii. st. 4, 1. 8, protense (1590), 
pretence (1596). 

P. 216, bk. III. c. iii. st. 23, 1. 5, shall (1590), 
all (1679). 

P. 216, bk. III. c. iii. st. 29, 1. 1, with (1590), 
where (1596). 

P. 217, bk. 
(1596). 

P. 218, bk. 
^^6(1596). 

P. 218, bk. HI. c. iii. st. 44, 1. 5, yeares (in 
1590) is omitted by the 4to. 1596 and fo!. 1609, 
and full is inserted to render the line complete. 

P.' 218, bk. III. c. iii. st. 44, 1. 6, Ere they to 
former rule, &c. (1596), Ere they unto their 
former rule (1590). 

P, 219, bk. III. c. iii. st. 50, 1. 9, Hee (from the 
ei-r.""^'-^ in 'Faults escaped in the Print'). The 
text of 4to, 1590 reads she, and omits as earst, 
which are supplied from the fol. 1609. 

P. 220. bk. III. c. iii. st. 53, 1. S,{n6ed makes 
good schoUers) teach (1590), whom '^eed- new 
strength shall teach (1596). '' •--' 

P. 222, bk. III. c. iv. st. 5, 1. 8, shi (1596), he 
(1590). 

P. 222, bk. III. c. iv. st. 8. 1. 9, thy (1590), these 
(1596). 

P. 223, bk. II 
speares (1590). 

P. 225, bk. II 
neshii (1590). 

P. 225, bk. II 
swownd (1590) 

P. 225, bk. in. c. iv. st. 33, 
traynes (1596). 

P. 226, bk. III. c. iv. st. 39, 1. 9, sith we no more 
shall meet (1596), till we againe m.ay m,eet 
(1590). 

P. 226, bk. III. c. iv. st. 40, 1. 6, gelly-blood 
(1590), ielly'd blood (1611). 

P. 22*?, bk. HI. c. iv. St. 43, 1. 4, vauted (1590), 
vaulted (1609). 

P. 227, bk. III. c. iv. st. 46, 1. 2, great (1596), 
yretilbm- 



II. c. iii. St. 35, 1. 1, thy (1590), the 
HI. c. iii. St. 37, 1. 7, their (1590), 



. c. iv. St. 15, I. 6, speare (1609) 
. c. iv, St. 27, 1. &, fleshly (1596), 
c. iv. St. 30, 1. 6, swowne (1596), 
(1590), 



1. 4;rar/7u 



IV. 



St. 48, 1. 1, o£ (1590), of 
iv. St. 49, 1. 8, forhent (1590), 



c. V. St. 53, 1. 9, weare (1609), 
c. vi. St. 8, 1. 9, were (1590), 



P. 227, bk. HI 
(1596). 

P. 228, bk. HI. 
forehent (1609), 

P. 229, bk. III. c. iv. st. 59, 1. 5, Dayes dearest 
children be (1596), The children of day be 
(1590). 

P. 230, bk. HI. c. V. St. 3. 1. 2, till that at last 
(1590), till at the last (1609). 

P. 232, bk. III. c. V. St. IC, 1. 5, no (1596), now 
(1590). 

P. 232, bk. HI. c. V. St. 21, 1. 9, blood. The 
4to. 1590 reads flood (1596), bloud. 

P. 233, bk. HI. c. V. St. 30, 1. 7, better (1596), 
bitter (1590). 

P. 234, bk. HI. c. V. St. 37, 1. 3, did (1590), 
Vtad (Collier). 

P. 234, bk. III. c. V. St. 89, 1. 9, Ms (1596), their 
(1590). 

P. 234, bk. HI. 0. V. St. 40, i. 4, lores sweet teene 
(1596), .<<weet lores teene (1590). 

P. 235, bk. HI. c. V. St. 40, 1. 9, HA-ing (1590), 
living (1596). 

P. 235, bk. HI. c. V. St. 44, 1. 5, bovntie, 
? beautie (Collier). 

P. 236, bk. HI. c. iv. st. 50, 1. 8, to all th' 
(1590), to is omitted in fol. 1609. 

P. 236, bk. HI. c. V. St. 51, 1. 9, let to (1590), let 
it (1611 ). Collier is wrong in contradicting Todd's 
assertion that the fol. 1611 reads let it. 

P. 236. bk. 
uere (1590). 

P. 237, bk. 
icas (1596). 

P. 237, bk. III. c. vi. st. 5, 1. 8, bare (1596), 
bore (1590). 

P. 237, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 6, 1. 5, his beames. 
The fol. of 1C09 has his hot beames. 

P. 238, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 12, 1. 2, aspect. The 
4to. 1590 reads aspects. 

P. 238, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 12, 1. 4, beantie (1590), 
beatities (1596). 

P. 239, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 20, 1. 5, chovnge . . . 
straunge. The 4to. 1590 reads chavng . . . 
Ktraung ; the 4to. 1596 has change, strange. 

P. 240, bk. HI. c. -" St. 25, 1. 5, W/iich as 
(1609), From which ('.tos. 1590, 1596). Church 
proposed to read Of uhich a fonntaine, &c. 

P. 240, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 26, 1 .' 4, bothfarre and 
neare (1596), omitted in the 4to. 1590. 

P. 240, bk. HI. c. vi. s^ ., I. 6, thence (1590), 
hence (1596). 

P. 240, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 29, 1. 5, G'««rf'Ms(1596), 
Gnidas (1590). 

P. 241, bk. HI. c. vi. St. 39, 1. 1, and to all 
(1590), to is omitted in fol. 1611. 

P. 242, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 40, 1. 6, saw. All thei 
old copies read spyde. 

P. 242, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 42, 1. 5, Jieavy (1596), 
heavenly (1590). 

P. 242, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 45, 1. 4, And dearest 
love (in 1609), omitted in the 4tos. 

P. 242, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 45, I. 5, Nurcisse 
(1596), 3/arcisse (1590). 

P. 243, bk. HI. c. vi. st. 48, 1. 9, losen (1590), 
loosen (1609). 

P. 243. bk. HI. c. vi. st. 52, 1. 9, launched (1596), 
launch (1590), launced (1609). 

P. 244, bk. HI. c. vii. Arg. 1. 4, Oyaunta. l\> 
is Gynant in 1590, and Gyants in 1596. 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



551 



P. 244, bk. III. c. vii. st. 1, 1. 8, she did (1596), 
he did (1590). 

P. 244, bk. III. c. vii. st. 5, 1. 1, the tops (1590), 
th' tops (1609). 

P. 245, bk. III. c. vii. st. 9, 1. 3, to (1596), two 
(1590). 

P. 245, bk. III. c. vii. st. 13, 1. 6, hath (1590), 
had (1609). 

P. 246, bk. III. c. vii. st. IS, 1. 5, 3fight by the 
vntch or by her soane compast (1590). The 
verb be must be understood before compast. 
Might be the loitch or that her sonne (1596). 

P. 246, bk. III. c. vii. st. 19, 1. 6, her (1590), 
that (1609). 

P. 247, bk. III. c. vii. st. 23, 1. 4, he (1596), she 
(1590). 

P. 248, bk. Ill, c. vii. st. 32, 1. 7, mttcAf/Z(1596), 
micch ill (1611). Collier is wronjir in contradict- 
ing Todd's assertion respecting the lection of the 
fol. 1611. 

P. 249, bk. III. c. vii. st. 43. 1. 8, nere. The 
4to. 1590 has were; the 4to. 1596 reads neare. 

P. 249, bk. in. c. vii. st. 45, 1. 5, fro7/i him 
(1590). him from (1609). 

P. 250, bk. III. c. vii. st. 46, 1. 8, the (1590), that 
(1.596). 

P. 250, bk. III. c. vii. st. 48, I. 4, And many 
hath to &c. (1596), Till him Chylde Thopas to 
.to. (1590). 

P. 252, bk. III. c. viii. st. 2, 1, 7, golden (1590), 
broken (1596). 

P. 252, bk. iii.c.viii.st. 5, 1. \, advice: — device 
(1590). advise (1596). 

P. 25:3, bk. III. c. viii. st. 6, 1. 7, wex (1590), 
wa^. (1G09). 

P. 253, bk. III. c. viii. st. 7, 1. 4, to wometis 
(1590), a icomans (1596). 

P. 253, bk. III. c. viii. st. 9, 1. 9, whom (1609), 
icho (4tos.) 

P. 254, bk. III. c. viii. st. 17, 1. 3, brought, 
through. The 4to. 1590 has broght, throgh. 

P. 255, bk. III. c. viii. st. 25, 1. 6, hond. It is 
hand in all old editions. 

P. 256, bk. HI. c. viii. st. -30, 1. 3, frory (1609), 
frowy (1590), but see p. 256, st. .35,' 1. 2. 

P. 256, bk. III. c. V!"' St. 32, 1. 7, Had . . . 
assoyld (.so all the old Editions). Church pro- 
posed to read Did . . . assoyle. 

P. 256, bk. III. c. viii. st. -33, 1. 9, her by (1590), 
thereby (1596). 

P. 257, bk. III. c. i. st. 37, 1. 9, hight (1596), 
high (1590). 

P. 258, bk. HI. c. viii. st. 47, 1. 5, surely. Upton 
suggested sorely. 

P. 258, bk. III. c. viii. st. 49, 1. 2, T'have (1596), 
To have (1590). 

P. 259, bk. III. c. ix. st. 2, 1. 4, attone (1596), 
attonce (1590). 

P. 259, bk. III. c. ix. st. 7, 1. 3, misdonne (1596), 
disdonne (1590). 

P. 261, bk. III. c. ix, St. 20, 1. 9, persant (1590), 
persent (1609), present (1611). 

P. 261, bk. III. c. ix. St. 22, 1. 1, Bellona (1590), 
Minerva (1596). 

P. 261, bk. III. c. ix. St. 22, 1. 5, her speare 
(1590), the speare (1596). 

P. 262, bk. III. c. ix. St. 27, 1. 5, that glaunces 
(1609), Tcith glaunces (1590). 

P. 262, bk. III. c. ix. st. 27, 1. T, demeasnure 
(1590), demeanure (1609). 



P. 263, bk. III. c. ix. st. 32, 1. 8, glad (1596), 
yglad (1590). 

P. 263, bk. HI. c. ix. st. 37, 1. 7, glories (1590, 
1596, 1609), glorious (1611. 1679). 

P. 264, bk. III. c. ix. St. 43, 1. 9, remoud (1590), 
remou'd (1609), removed (1679). 

P. 264, bk. HI. c. ix. st. 45, 1. 3, neck (1596), 
necks (1590). 

P. 265, bk. HI. c. ix. st. 47, 1. 3, heard (1596), 
hard (1590). 

P. 265, bk. III. c. ix. st. 49, 1. 4, Which, after 
rest (1596), And after rest (1609). 

P. 266, bk. III. c. X. St. 2, 1. 2, grievously (1596), 
grivously (1590). 

P. 267, bk. HI. c. X. St. 8, 1. 9, to (1596), with 
(1590). 

P. 268, bk. III. c. X. St. IS, 1. 4, Then (1596), So 
(1590). 

P. 26S, bk. III. c. X. St. 21, 1. 9, earned (1590), 
yearned (1609). 

P. 270, bk. III. c. X. St. 31, 1. 3, and with thy 
(1596), that with thy (1590). 

P. 270, bk. III. c. X. St. 81, 1. 7, vertues pay 
(1609), vertitous pray (1590). 

P. 270, bk. HI. c. X. St. 33, 1. 7, over-ronne. It 
is overonne in 1590. 

P, 271, bk. HI. c. X. St. 40, 1. 1, addresse. All 
old copies have addrest. 

P. 271, bk. III. c. X. St. 40, 1. 3, wastefull (1596), 
f a ithf nil (1500). 

P. 271, bk. III. c. X. St. 41, 1. 7, wide forest, 
(1590), wild forest (1609). 

P. 272, bk. III. c. X. St. 47, 1, 1, the (1609), his 
(1590). 

P. 274, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 2, 1, 3, golden (1609), 
gold in g (1590). 

P. 274, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 4, 1. 4, all that I ever, 
&c. (1590). that I did ever, &c. (1596). 

P. 274, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 6, 1. 6, ^ff.s(1590), teas 
(1611). Colher is wrong in contradicting Todd's 
assertion respecting the reading of the fol. 1611. 

P. 274, bk. HI, c. xi. St. 7, 1. 6, of (1590), of 
(1596). 

P. 275, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 12, 1. 1, singulis {VmQ), 
singulfes (1590). 

P. 276, bk. III. c. xi. st. 19, death (1590), ? life 
(Jortin). 

P. 276, ^k. HI. c. xi. St. 22, 1. 8, the which (1596). 
In .. 1590 </te is omitted. 

P. 277. bK. HI. c. xi. st. 23, 1. 2, Inglorious, 
beastlihe. The 4to, 1590 reads Inglorious and 
beastlike. In fol. 1611 a7id is omitted. Collier 
is wrong in saving that no old edition omits and. 

P. 277, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 27, 1. 7, entred (1.596), 
decked (1590). 

P. 277, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 28, 1. 8, Like a (1596), 
Like to a (1590). 

P. 278, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 33, 1. 9, her (1590), his 
(1609). 

P. 278, bk. T'l. c. xi. st. 36, 1. 7, thee (1596), the 
(1590). 

P. 279, bk. iii.c. xi. st. 38, 1. b,fire (1590), fier 
(Vm). 

P. 279, bk. III. c. xi. st. .39, 1. 6, each other (1596), 
his other (1590). 

P. 279, bk. HI. c. xi. st. 39, 1. 8, stag (suggested 
bv Jortin). All old copies read hag. 
■p. 280, bk. in. c. .\i, st. 47, 1. 9, hevens hight 
(suggested by Church). All old ^d(tions rea(i 
heven bright. 



552 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



P. 282. bk. III. c. xii. st. 7, 1. 8, wood (1596), 
word (1590). 

P. 282, bk. III. c. xii. st. 9, 1. 3, other (1609), 
others (1596). 

P. 283, bk. III. c. xii. st. 12, 1. 3, too or froe 
(1590), to and fro (1596). 

P. 283, bk. in. c. xii. st. 12, 1. 6, winged (1590), 
wiiigy (1596). 

P. 283, bk. III. c. xii. st. 17, 1. 6, did, tosse (so 
all copies). Church would omit did, and for 
tosse read tost : In her right hand a flerhrand 
she tost. 

P. 283, bk. III. c. xu. st. 18, 1. 5, drad (1596), 
dread (1590). 

P. 283, bk. III. c. xii. st. IS, 1. 8, hony-ladeji. 
All old editions read hony-lady. 

P. 284, bk. III. c. xii. st. 21, 1. 1, fading. Church 
thinks that Spenser meant to write failing. 

P. 284, bk. III. c. xii. st. 21, 1. 8, still (1596), 
skill (1590). .• 

P. 284, bk. III. c. xii. st. 23, 1. 5, hand is omit- 
ted in 4tos., but is among the errata in 'Faults 
escaped in the Print.' 

P. 284, bk. III. c. xii. st. 26, 1. 7, by the (1590), 
with that (1590). 

P. 285, bk. III. c. xii. st. 27, 1. 3, and bore all 
away (1596), nothing did remayne (1590). 

P. 285, bk. III. c. xii. st. 27, 1. 8, It (1590), In 
(1611). Collier is wrong respecting the reading 
of the folios. 

P. 285, bk. III. c. xii. st. 28, 1. 1, there (1609). 
The 4tos. read their. 

P. 285, bk. III. c. xii, st. 29, 1. 1, wandering 
(1590), wondering (1611). 

P. 285, bk. Ill, c. xii. st, 33, 1. 3, to herself e 
(1596), to the nexi {\b^^). 

P. 286, bk. III. c. xii. st. 34, 1. 4, unto her (1609), 
unto him (1590). 

P. 286, bk. III. c. xii st. 38, 1. 5, bor\l (1596), 
sor'^d, i.e. made sore, hurt (1590). 

P. 286, bk. HI. c. xii. st. 40, 1. 6, faire Lady 
(1596). faire Lad (1590). 

P. 287, bk. III. c. xii. st. 45, 1. 9, Whitest here 
I doe respire. 

When Spenser printed his first three books of 
the ' Fairie Queene ' the two lovers, Sir Scuda- 
more and Amoret, have a happy meeting: but 
afterwards, when he .printed the "fourth, fifth, and 
sixth books, he reprinted likewise the first three 
books; and, among other alterations, he left out 
the five last stanzas and made three new stanzas, 
viz. 43, 44, 45. More easie issew vo^c, &c. By 
these alterations this third book not only con- 
nects better with the fourth, but the reader is 
kept in that suspense which is necessary in a 
well-told story. The stanzas which are men- 
tioned above as omitted in the second edition, 
and printed in the first, are the following — 

43. 
" At last she came unto the place, where late 

" She left Sir Scudamour in great distresse, 

" Twixt dolour and despight halfe desperate, 

" Of his loues succour, of his owne redresse, 

" And of the hardie Britomarts successe : 

" There on the cold earth him now thrown she 
" found, 

" In wilfuU anguish and dead heavinesse, 

" And to him cald ; whose voices knowen sound 
" Soon as he heard, himself he reared light from 
" ground. 



44. 
" There did he see, that most on earth him joyd, 
" His dearest loue, the comfort of his dayes, 
" Whose too long absence him had sore annoyd, 
" And wearied his life with dull delayes. 
" Straight he upstarted from the loathed layes, 
" And to her ran with hast.v egernesse, 
" Like as a Deare, that greedily embayes 
" In the cool soile, after long thirstinesse, 
" AVhich he in chace endured hath, now nigh 
" breathlesse. 

45. 
" Lightly he dipt her twixt his armes twaine, 
" And streightly did embrace her body bright, 
" Her body, late the prison of sad paine, 
" Now the sweet lodge of loue and deare 

" delight : 
" But she, faire Lady, overcommen quight 
" Of huge affection, did in pleasure melt, 
"And in sweete ravishment pourd out her 

" spright. 
" No word they spake, nor earthly thing they 
" felt, 
" But like two senceles stocks in long embrace- 
" ment dwelt. 

46. 

" Had ye them seene, ye would have surely 

" thought 

" That they had beene that faire Hermaphrodite, 

" Which that rich Komane of white marble 

" wrought, 
" And in his costly Bath causd to bee site. 
'' So seemd those two, as growne together 

" quite, 

" That Britomart, halfe envying their blesse, 

" Was much emi)asi;iond in her gentle sprite, 

" And to her selfe oft wisht like happinesse : 

" In vain she wisht, that fate n'ould let her yet 

" possesse. 

47. 
" Thus doe those louers, with sweet counter- 
vayle, 
" Each other of loues bitter fruit despoile. 
" But now my teme begins to faint and fayle, 
" All woxen weary of their journall toyle : 
" Therefore I will their sweatie yokes assoyle 
"At this same furrowes end, till a new day ; 
" And ye, faire Swayns, after your long tur- 

moyle, 
" Now "cease your worke, and at your pleasure 
" play : 
" Now cease your work; to morrow is an holy 
" day." 

P. 288, bk. IV. c. i. 1. 4, Triamond. All the 
early editions have Telamond. 

V. 291, bk. IV, c. i. st. 16, 1. 4, griefull (1596), 
griefefxill (1609). 

P.' 291, bk. IV. c. i. St. 16, 1. 7, none (1596), one, 
(1609). 

P. 296, bk. IV. c. ii. st. 2, 1. 5, concented (1596), 
consented (1679). 

P. 299. bk. IV. c. ii. st. 19, 1. I, besitting (1596), 
hentling (1679). 

■p. 299, bk. IV. c. ii. st. 22, 1. 7, arizing. The 
4tos. have advising, the folios avising. 

P. 303, bk. IV. c. ii. st. 52, 1. 9, so be (1596), be 
so (?). 

P. 305, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 7, 1. 4, skill (1609), sill. 
(1596). 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



553 



p. 305, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 8, 1. 8, avengement 
(1609), advengement (1596). 

P. 305, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 9, 1. 6, n'ote (1609), not 
(1596). 

P. 305, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 13, 1. S, other hrethren 
(so all copies). It should be second hroiktr 
(Church). 

P. 306, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 20, 1. 1, adrenttire (so 
all copies). It has been proposed to read adi;an- 
tage ; but adventure = opportunitJ^ 

P. 308, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 36. 1. 3, icards (so all 
copies). Church proposed to read nwords. 

P. 311, bk. IV. c. iii. st. 52, 1. 9, elsichere (1609), 
ehwere (1596). 

P. 311, bk. IV. c. iv. St. 1, 1. 4, minds (1596), 
lives (1609). 

P. 311, bk. IV. c. iv. St. 2, 1. 3, als (1609), els 
(1596). 

P. 311, bk. IV. c. iv. St. 2, 1. 4, Blandamour 
(16T9), Scudamour (1596). 

P. 312, bk. IV. c. iv. st. 8, 1. 2, Ferrau (1609), 
Ferrat (1596). 

P. 812. bk. IV. c. iv. st. 10, 1. 5, tcorse (1609), 
^corst (1596). 

P. 313. bk. IV. c. iv. st. 17, 1. 4, maiden-headed 
(1596), ? satyr-headed (Church). 

P. 314, bk. IV. c. iv. st. 24, 1. 9, swound. The 
4to. has sound. 

P. 314, bk. IV. c. iv. st. 24, 1. 1, beam-like 
(1609), bravelike (1596). 

P. 315, bk. IV. c. iv. st. 29, 1. 6, cuffing (1611), 
Ciiffling (1596). 

P. 318, bk. IV. c. V. St. 4, 1. 4, Lemno (1596), 
Lemnos (1611). 

P. 318, bk. IV. c. V. St. 5, 1. 5, Acidalian (1596), 
Aridalian (1609). 

P. 318, bk. IV. c. V. St. 6, 1. 8, Martian (1596), 
? martial. 

P. 320, bk. IV. c. V. St. 16, 1. 1, that (1596), the 
(1609). 

P. 320, bk. IV. c. V. St. 21, 1. 8, one (so all old 
copies). Hughes reads oirn. 

P. 321. bk. IV. c. V. St. 23, 1. 7, sens (1596), 
since (1609). 

P. 821, bk. IV. c. V. St. 25, 1. 5, one (1609), once 
(1596). 

P. 322, bk. IV. c. V. st. 31, 1. 3, his (1609), her 
(1596). 

P. 822, bk. IV. c. V. st. 35, 1. 4, unpared (1596), 
prepared (1611). 

P. 322, bk. IV. c. V. st. 37, 1. 2, Pwacmon 
(1609). Ed. 1596 reads Pynacmon. 

P. 323, bk. IV. c. V. st. 40, 1. 7, wheresoever 
(1596), wheresoere (1611). 

P. 827, bk. IV. c. vi. st. 24, 1. 8, feare (1609), 
his feare (1596). 

P". 327, bk. IV. c. vi. st. 28, 1. 6, Him (pro- 
posed by Upton and Church), Her (1596), He 
(1609). 

P. 828, bk. IV. c. vi. st. 33, 1. 6, ranging (1596), 
raging (1611). 

P. 830, bk. IV. c. vi. st. 44, 1. 4. in (1596). 
Some modern editors, following fol. 1609, alter to 
on. 

P. 8.80, bk. IV. c. vi. St. 46, 1. 5, ivhom (1609), 
who (1596). 

P. 330. bk. IV. c. vii. st. 1, 1. 1, darts (1609), 
dart(\m(i). 

P. 382, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 10, 1. 9, over-sight 
(1596), ore-sight (1609). 



P. 832, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 12, 1. 1, caytive (1596). 
Some editors have proposed to read captive. 

P. 333, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 22, 1. 1, Kor hedge 
(1596). Mr. J. P. Collier proposes to read For 
hedge. 

P. 833, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 23, 1. 8, to (1596) is 
omitted in 1679. 

P. 833, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 25, 1. 1, which (1609), 
tcith (1596). 

P. 385, bk. IV. c. vii. st. 34, 1. 1, sad (1609), 
said (1596). 

P. 337, bk. IV. c. viii. st. 1, 1. 9, infixed (1596), 
infected (1011). 

P. 838, bk. IV. c. viii. st. 9, 1. 9, pertake (1596), 
partake (1609). 

P. 338, bk. IV. c. viii. st. 12, 1. 3, her (suggested 
by Church), him (1596). 

P. 845, bk. IV. c. viii. st. 64, 1. 1, this (1596), 
his (1609). 

P. 345, bk. IV. c. i.x. Arg. 1. 2, ^inylia (sug- 
gested by Church), Poeana (1596). 

P. 845, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 1, 1. 8, vertuous (1609), 
rertues (1596). 

P. 346, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 3, 1. 3, these (1596), this 
(1609). 

P. 347, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 11, 1. 9, them (suggested 
by Church), him (1596). 

P. 347, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 12, 1. 2, he (1596), 
? they or was (Church). 

P. 347, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 14, 1. 8, dyde = dyed, 
complexioned. Church suggested eyde. 

P. 347, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 17, 1. 5, quest. It is 
guest in 1596 and in all old copies. 

P. 347, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 17, 1. 7, bequest (1596), 
request (1611). 

P. 348, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 23, 1. 8, ivide. Mr. J. 
P. Collier says that in Drayton's copy of the fol. 
of 1611 wilde is suggested as an emendation for 
wide.' 

P. 349, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 26, 1. 1, T7ien gan (pro- 
posed by Church). In 1596 it is their gan, in 
1611 there gan. 

P. 349, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 30, 1. 8, repayed (1609), 
repayred (1596). 

P. 850, bk. IV. c. ix. st. 87, 1. 2, Knight (1596), 
? Knights (Upton). 

P. 352, bk. IV. c. X. st. 7, 1. 9, ancient (1609), 
ancients (1596). 

P. 852, bk. IV. c. X. st. 9, 1. 1, earne (1596), 
yearne (1611). 

P. 858, bk. IV. c. X. st. 17, 1. 5, adward (1596), 
award (1609). 

P. 353, bk. IV, c. X. st. 19,1. \, meanest (1609), 
nearest (1596). 

P. 854, bk. IV. c. X. st. 23, 1. 2, ghesse (1596), 
bee (1609). 

P. 354, bk. IV. c. X. St. 23, 1. 8, to bee (1596), to 
ghesse (1609), I ghesse (1611). 

P. 854, bk. IV. c. X. st. 26, 1. 9, aspire (1596), 
inspire (1611). 

P. 354, bk. IV. c. X. St. 27, 1. 1, Hyllus (1596), 
Hylus (1609). 

P. 8.56, bk. IV. c. X. St. 85, 1. 6, hell (so all 
copies). Some editors have suggested mell = 
confound; but hell=0. E. hill or hele= cover, 
which agrees with its nominative %Biaters. And 
fire devour e the ayre is a parenthetical clause. 

P. 858. bk. IV. c. X. st. 51, 1. 9, girlonds (so all 
editions), ? gardians (Church), ? guerdons (J. 
P. CoUier). 



554 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



P. 358, bk. IV. c. X. st, 55, 1. 8, warie (1596), 
? ^cearie (Church and Upton). 

P. 358, bk. IV. c. X. st. 56, 1. 4, at (1596), on 
(1609). 

P. 359, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 4, 1. 2, dredd (1596), 
drad (1609). 

P. 359, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 4, 1. 6, seven (1596), 
three (1609). 

P. 361, bk. IV. c. xi. st. IT, 1. 6, age. All old 
copies read times. 

P. 361, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 19, 1. 4, fortold (1596), 
foretold (1611). 

P. 363, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 34, 1. 5, Grant (Child). 
The ed. of 1596 reads Guant. 

P. 365, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 45, 1. 1, lovely (1596), 
laving (1609). 

P. 365, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 48, 1. 8, Endore (1596), 
read Ewdore (Child): 

P. 366, bk. IV. c. xi. st. 52, 1. 7, hut (so all 
copies). Some editors have proposed to read hoth. 

P. 368, bk. IV. c. xii., st. 13, 11. 1, 2, Thus whilst, 
&c. (1596). 

Thus whilst his stony heart was touchi with, 

&c. 
And mighty courage something m.olliJide{\^^'i). 

P. 369, bk. IV. c. xii. st. 23, 1. 9, That it was 
no old sore (1596), That no old sore it was 
(1611). 

P. 371, bk. V. Prol. st. 2, 1. 2, at (1596), as (1611). 

P. 371, bk. V. Prol. st. 2, 1. 9, degendered 
(1596), degenered (1611). 

P. 372, bk. V. Prol. st. 7, 1. 8, thirtie (1596), 
? thirteen. 

P. 372, bk. V. Prol. st. 9, 1. 4, ne (1596), no 
(1611). 

P. 372, bk. V. Prol. st. 11, 1. 2, stead (1609), 
'place (1596). 

P. 373, bk. V. c. i. st. 4, 1. 1, Jrena (1609), 
Eirena (1596). 

P. 376, bk. V. c. ii. Arg. 1. 3, Munera, &c. The 
4to. has Momera. The correct reading was 
adopted by Hughes. 

P. 377, bk. V. c. ii. st. 2, 1. 7, As to his (1609), 
And to his (1596). 

P. 377, bk. V. c. ii. st. 4, 1. 1, he (1609), sJie 
(1596). 

P. 378, bk. V. c. ii. st. 11, 1. 4, When as. AU 
editions read Who as. Church proposed to read 
Tho as = then as. 

P. 380, bk. V. c. ii. st. 32, 1. 4, earth (1609), 
eare (1596). 

P. 3S1, bk. V. c. ii. st. 38, 1. 1, these (1596), 
those (1609). 

P. 382, bk. V. c. ii, st. 44, 1. 4, vmy (1596), 
weigh (1609). 

P. 382, bk. V. c. ii. st. 45, 1. 8, weight (so all 
editions), ? scale (Church). 

P. 382, bk. V. c. ii. st. 46, 1. 9, way (1596), lay 
(1609). 

P. 386, bk. V. c. iii. st. 20, 1. 2, adtewed (so all 
editions). Upton suggested had viewed. 

P. 389, bk. V. c. iii. st. 40, 1. 6, ^oe here (1609), 
were here (1596). 

P. 389, bk. V. c. iv. st. 1, 1. 3, Had needehave 
(1596), Had need o/'(1611). 

P. 390, bk. V. c. iv. st. 8, 1. 8, doxiA'e (1596), 
dowre (1609). 

P. 392, bk. V. c. iv. st. 22, 1. 2, pinnoed (1596), 
pimiiond (1611). 



P. 394, bk. V. c. iv. st. 36, 1. 1, watchman 
(1609), watchmen (1596). 

P. 394, bk. V. c. iv. st. 36, 1. 8, halfe like a 
man (1596), arm'd like a man (1609). 

P. 394, bk. V. c. iv. st. 37, 1. 3, so few (so all 
copies). Church proposed to alter neare in 1. 1 
to 7ieic, so as to rhyme with few. Mr. J. P. 
(Jollier proposes to read to feare instead of so 
few, thus making a suitable rhvme for neare. 

P. 394, bk. V. c. iv. st. 37, 'l. 6, there (1596), 
their (1611). 

P. 394, bk. V. c. iv. st. 39, 1. 3, doale . . . 
divide (1609), doile . . . davide (1596). 

P. 404, bk. V. c. vi. St. 5, 11. 6, 7, For houres, 
&c. (so all editions) ; but we ought to read, says 
Church, 

For dayes, huthoures ; for moneths that passed 

were, 
She told hut \veekes, &c. 

P. 405, bk. V. c. vi. st. 13, 1. 9, singulis (1609), 
ungulfs (1596). 

P. 406, bk. V. c. vi. st. 16, 1. 7, things com- 
pacte. Mr. J. P. Colher, following Church, reads 
thing com/joc!'^ = a concerted thing. But the 
clause may stand if we look upon things as in the 
genitive case. 

P. 406, bk. V. c. vi. st. 17, 1. 5, Heard (1609), 
Here (1596). 

P. 407, bk. V. c. vi. st. 24, 1. 1, their (1596), her 
(1609). 

P. 407, bk. V. c. vi. St. 25, 1. 9, nights. Church 
suggested KnighVs. 

P. 407, bk. V. c. vi. st. 29, 1. 5, glims (1596), 
glimse (1609), glimpse (1679). 

P. 408, bk. V. c. vi. st. 32, 1. 7, did (1596), ? had. 

P. 408, bk. V. c. vi. st. 33, 1. 7, avenge (1596), 
revenge (1609). 

P. 408, bk. V. c. vi. st. 34, 1. 7, their (1596), 
thai (1611). 

P. 408, bk. V. c. vi. St. 35, 1. 5, vilde (1596), vile 
(1609). 

P. 410, bk. V. c. vii. st. 6, 1. 9, Iter wreathed 
(1596), ? his wreathed (Church). 

P. 411, bk. V. c. vii. st. 13, 1. 5, to rohe (1596), 
to he (1611). 

P. 414, bk. V. c. vii. st. 88, 1. 5, had (1596), sad 
(1609). 

P. 415, bk. V. c. vii. st. 42, 1. 3, Princess (1609), 
Princes (1596). 

P. 420, bk. V. c. viii. st. 34, 1. 8, curat (1596), 
curas (1679). 

P. 420, bk. V. e. viii. st. 40, 1. 6, knowen (1609), 
knoicne (1596). 

P. 421, bk. V. c. viii. st. 48, 1. 6, whether (1596), 
whither (1609). 

P. 422, bk. V. c. viii. st, 50, 1. 8, coivheard 
(1596), coicard (1609). 

P. 425, bk. V. c. ix. st. 21, 1. 1, knights (1596), 
knight {li^li). 

P. 425, bk. V. c. ix. st. 26, 1. 4, Font. The 4to. 
of 1596 reads Fons. 

P. 426. bk. V. c. ix. st. 33, 1. 8, rebellious 
(1609), rehellions (1596). 

P. 428, bk. V. c. ix. st. 44, 1. 1, appose (1596), 
oppose (1609). 

P. 429, bk. V. c. x. St. 6, 1. 4, and her' (1609), 
and of her (1596). 

P. 430, bk. V. c. x. St. 8, 1. 4, Idols ? Idol 
(Church). 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



555 



P. 431, bk. V. c. X. St. 18,.l. S,/astnesse (1596), 
snfenesse (1611). 

P. 432, bk. V. c. X. st. 23, 1. 1, whether (1596), 
whither (1611). 

P. 432, bk. V. c. X. st. 23, 1. 4, threating (1596), 
threatning (1611). 

P. 432, bk. V. c. X. st. 26, 1. 3, so now ? now so 
(Church). 

P. 434, bk. V. c. X. St. 37, 1. 6, hard preased 
(1596), had preaced (1609). 

P. 435, bk. V. c. xi. st. 5, 1. 9, have rive (1596), 
not rive (1611). 

P. 436, bk. V. c. xi. st. 12, 1. 4, to them (1596), 
on them. (1679). 

P. 436, bk. V. c. xi. st. 13, 1. 9, through (1609). 
Ed. 1596 reads throgh. 

P. 440, bk. V. c. xi. st. 40, 1. 6, shall sure aby. 
The 4to. 1596 omits the two words shall sure, 
which are supplied from the folio 1611. 

P. 440, bk. V. c. xi. st. 41, 1, 2, too blame 
(1596), to hlame (1679). 

P. 440, bk. V. c. xi. st. 41, 1. 6, know (sug- 
gested by Upton), Jcjiew (1596). 

P. 442, bk. V. c. xi. st. 54, 1. 9, corruptfull 
(1596), corrupted (1609). 

P. 443, bk. V. c. xi. st. 61, 1. 7, meed (so all 
editions). The rhyme requires hifve, (Church). 

P. 443, bk. V. c. xi. st. 61, 1. '^jroward (1609), 
forward (1596). 

P. 443, bk. V. c. xii. st. 1, 1. 9, enduren (1609), 
endure (1596). 

P. 444, bk. V. c. xii. st. 5, 1. 9, the Eagle (1596), 
th" Eagle (1609). 

P. 445, bk. V. c. xii. st. 17, 1. 5, such (1596), 
sure (1609). 

P. 446, bk. V. c. xii. st. 19, 1. 2, shame (1596), 
? harme (Collier). 

P. 447, bk. V. c. xii. st. 30, 1. 6, hungrily 
(1596), hungerly (1609). 

P. 451, bk. VI. Prol. st. 6, 1. 9, fame (adopted 
by Collier), name (1596). 

P. 452, bk. VI. c. i. st. 8, 1. 7, wretched (1596), 
wicked (1611). 

P. 455, bk. VI. c. i. st. 28, 1. 6, ere he (1609), ere 
ihou{\m%). 

P. 455, bk. VI. c. i. st. 34, 1. 2, swound (adopted 
by Child), sound (1596). 

P. 456, bk. VI. c. i. st. 37, 1. 5, potshares (1596), 
potshards (1611). 

P. 456, bk. VI. c. i. st. 40, 1. 9, yearne (1596), 
earne (1609). 

P. 457, bk. VI. c. ii. st. 8. 1. 2, deed and word 
(1609), act and deed (1.596). 

P. 458, bk. VI. c. ii. st. 3, 1. 3, eares. All old 
editions read eyes. 

P. 458, bk. VI. c. ii. st. 3, 1. 4, eyes. All old 
editions read eares. 

P. 462. bk. VI. c. ii. st. 39, 1. 2, implements 
(1596), ornaments (1609). 

P. 464, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 1, 1. 3, a man (1596). 
In 1679 a is omitted. 

P. 46.5, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 12, 1. 7, save hole 
(1596), salve hole (1611). 

P. 466, bk. vi. c. iii. st. 21, 1. 8, default (1596), 
? assaiM (Collier). 

P. 467, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 24, 1. 5, Crying aloud 
to shPAo (1-609). The 4to. 1596 has Crying aloud 
in vaine to shew, &c. 

P. 407, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 28, 1. 6, soft footing 
(1679), sof ting foot (1596). 



P. 468, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 30, 1. 9, thorough (1609). 
The 4to. 1596 has through. ■ 

P. 468, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 35, 1. 3, which (1609). 
The 4to. 1596 has that. 

P. 469, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 42, 1. 4, approve (1609), 
reprove (1596). 

P. 469, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 42, 1. 7, reprove (1609), 
approve (1596). 

P. 470, bk. VI. c. iii. st. 48, 1. 2, and all (so all 
old editions), ? with all. 

P. 472, bk. VI. c. iv. st. 13, 1. 8, where (1609), 
there (1596). 

P. 472, bk. VI. c. iv. st. 16, 1. 8, htirt (1611), 
hurts (1596). 

P. 474, bk. VI. c. iv. st. 31, 1. 5, of our unhap- 
pie puine (so all old copies). Church proposed 
of this our happie paine. 

' P. 475, bk. VI. c. iv. st. 35, 1. 3, Lo ! (1609), 
Loio (1596). 

P. 476, bk. VI. c. V. Arg. 1. 1, Serena (Hughes), 
Matilda (1596). 

P. 479, bk. VI. c. V. st. 28, 1. 2, lives (1596), 
? live. Professor Child prints lived. 

P. 480, bk. VI. c. V. St. 36, I. 4, of (1609), of 
(1596). 

P. 481, bk. VI. c. V. St. 39, 1. 3, gree (1609), glee 
(1596). 

P. 481, bk. VI. c. V. St. 41, 1. 2, there (1609). 
The 4to. has their. 

P. 482, bk. VI. c. vi. st. 4, 1. 4, Of which (1596), 
In which (1611). 

P. 483, bk. VI. c. vi. st. 11, 1. 9, 3fakes. The 
4to. 1596 has Make. 

P. 484, bk. VI. c. vi. st. 17, 1. 7, Calepine 
(Hughes), Calidore (1596). 

P. 486, bk. VI. c. vi. st. 35, 1. 6, fight (1609), 
right (1596). 

P. 488, bk. VI. c. vii. st. 3, 1. 7, armed (1609). 
The 4to. has arm'd. 

P. 490, bk. VI. c. vii. st. 15, 1. 9, yearned (1596), 
earned (1609). 

P. 493. bk. VI. c. vii. st. 38, 1. 7, through (1609). 
The 4to. 1596 has throgh. 

P. 493, bk. VI. c. vii. st. 40, 1. 7, tyreling (1596), 
lyrling (1679). 

P. 495, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 3, 1. 9, misust (1596), 
misus'd (1609). 

P. 496, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 11, 1. 9, ttvo (1609), 
tow (1596). 

P. 497, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 15, 1. 3, pownded 
(1596), powned (1609). 

P. 497, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 17, 1. 6, From (1609), 
For (1596). 

P. 500, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 39, 1. 4, daintest 
(1596), daintiest (1609). 

P. 501, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 47, 1. 3, toyle (1609), 
toyles (1596). 

P. 501, bk. VI. c. viii. st. 50, 1. 4, they (1596), 
shee (1609). 

P. 502, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 4, 1. 9, time (1596), 
? tine (Church and Upton). 

P. 505, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 28, 1. 6, ih' heavens 
(1596). Some modern editions read the heaven. 

P. 506, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 36, 1. 3, addrest (1596), 
? he drest (Church). 

P. 506, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 36, 1. 8, Oenone 
(Hughes), Benone (4to. 1596 and all old edi- 
tions). 

P. 508, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 45, 1. 9, hought (1596), 
? sought (Church). 



556 



VARIATIONS FROM THE ORIGINAL EDITIONS. 



P. 508, bk. VI. c. ix. st. 46, 1. 5, did dwell (1611), 
did well (1596). 

P. 508, bk. VI. c. X. St. 2, 1. 9, in the port (1609). 
1 he 4to. has on the port. 

P. 511, bk. VI. c. X. St. 22, 1. 5, ^acidee. The 
4to. has JScidee. 

P. 511, bk. VI. c. X. St. 24, 1. 7, f reward (1611), 
forward (1596). 

P. 512, bk. VI. c. X. St. 34, 1. 9, her. Collier 
suffijests et^e = before. 

P. 513, bk. VI. c. X. St. 36, 1. 6, he (omitted in 
all old editions). 

P. 513, bk. VI. c. X. St. 42, 1. 5, daily (1596), 
? deadly (Church). 

P. 514, bk. VI. c. X. St. 44, 1. 8, And (1609), 
But (1596). 

P. 516, bk. VI. c. xi. st. 19, 1. 4, pretended. 
? protended (Collier). 

P. 517, bk. VI, c. xi. st. 24, 1. 1, reliv'd (1596), 
reriv'd (1609). 

P. 520, bk. VI. c. xi. St. 45, 1. 4, l>/f>il (1596), 
lif e f td {m)9). 

■ P. 523, bk. VI. c. xii. st. 12, 1. 8, loos (1596), 
praise (1609). 

P. 526, bk. VI. c. xii. st. 40, 1. 7, learned (1596), 
gentle (1600). 

P. 526, bk. VI. c. xii. st. 41, 1. 3, cleanest (1596), 
? clearest (Child). 

P. 5-34, bk. VII. c. vi. st. 53, 1. 6, ^mto (1609). 
The folio 1611 has unto unto. 

P. .534, bk. VII. c. vi. st. 54, 1. 8, champain 
(1611). champian (1609). 

P. 535, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 2, 1. 3, feeble. The 
folios have sable. 

P. 536. bk. VII. c. vii. st. 8, 1. 9, shov)e (1611), 
(1609). 



P. 5^6, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 9, I. 1, hard (1611), 
heard (1609). 

P. 536, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 9, 1. 7, kinde. The 
folios have kindes. 

P. 536, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 10, 1. 7, they: — 
which they (1611). 

P. 536, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 12, 1. 5, Peleus (1611). 
Pelene (1609). 

P. 5:37, bk. VII. c. vii. St. 16, 1. 3, thy (1609), 
my (1611). 

P. 538, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 28, 1. 3, bloosmes 
did (1609). The ed. of 1611 omits did. 

P. 540, bk. VII. c. vii. st. 41, 1. 5, rode (so all 
copies) ; the rhyme requires i^ade. 

P. 540, bk. vir. c. vii. st. 41, 1. 7, Idoean 
(ITpton). The folios read Icean. 

P. 542. bk. VII. c. vii. st. 55, 1. 7, saine (1609), 
faine (1611). 

P. 543, bk. VII. c. viii. st. 1. 1. 7, to cast (1609), 
and cast (1611). 

P. 543, bk. VII. c. viii. st. 2, 1. S, Sabaoth (1611), 
Sahhaoth (1609). 

P. 543, bk. VII. c. viii. st. 2, 1. 9. For that Mr. 
Collier suggests thou. But there should perhaps 
be no comma after God. and the sentence will be 
an optative one signifying ' () may that great God 
of hosts grant me the enjoyment of that rest eter- 
nal.' Perhaps Sabaoths sight is an allusion to the 
ancient interpretation of the word Jerusalem, i.e. 
visio pads. 

P. 543, bk. VII. c. viii. st. 2, 1. 9, Sabaoths 
(1609 and 1611), ? Sabbaths (Church). 

P. 543. bk. VII. c. viii. st. 2, 1. 9, Sabaoth God 
(1611), Sabbaoth God (1609). 



,\ 



GLOSSARY. 



..I, in ' A Gods name.' 
Abace, abase, to lower, to hang down. 
Ibartd, to abandon. 
.{bashtnent, fear. 
Ibeare, to behave, conduct. 
ibet, abett, to aid, support, maintain ; asserting 

falsely. 
Abid, abode, remained. 
ibie, aby, abye, to pay the penalty of, to atone 

for, suffer for ; abide by. 
Abject, to throw or cast down. 
ibode, remained ; a delay, stay. 
ibolish, to wipe out. 
iboord, abord, from the bank, astray, at a 

loss. Aborde, harbor. 
Abouts, about. 
ibrade, to rouse, wake up, 
ibray (pret. abrayde), to start up suddenly, to 

awake ; to quake with sudden fear. 
ibuKwn, abuse, deceit, fraud. 
iccloy, accloye, to clog up, choke, encumber, 

hinder. 
Accoasting, skimming along near the ground. 
iccompt, accoumpt, account. 
AcGorage, to encourage. 
Accord, to grant, to agree, to reconcile ; an 

agreement. 
According, agreeably to, according to ; accord- 
ingly. 
Accoate, to go side by side, to adjoin, border. 
Accourting, entertaining (courteously). 
Acc.oitstrement, garb. 
Accoy, accoie, to subdue, daunt, tame. 
Accoy, to coy, caress. 
AcGoyl, to assemble, gather together. 
Accrexo, to increase. 

Achates (^Acates), purchased provisions, cates. 
Acquight, acquit, acquite, to deliver, release ; 

acquitted, free. 
Adamants, crystals. 
AdMW, to adaunt, tame, moderate. 
Adayes, daily. 
Addeeme, to adjudge. 
Addoom, to adjudge. 
Address, to prepare, adjust, direct, clothe, arm. 

A irest, ready. 
Adjoyne, to approach, join. 
Admiraunce, admiration. 
Admire, to wonder at. 
Adore, to adorn. 
Adorne, ornament. 
Adoicne, down. 

Adrad, adred, adredde, afraid, terrified. 
Adrad, to be frightened. 
Advaunce, to extol ; impel. 



Adventure, chance ; opportunity ; to attempt. 

Advieiv, to view. 

Advise, advise, to consider, perceive, take 

thought of, bethink. 
Advizement, consideration. 
Ad ward, an award ; to award. 
JEmuling, emulating, rivaUing {cemuled). 
Afeard, afraid. 
Affear, to frighten. 
Affect, affection ; sorrow ; imitation. 
Affection, passion. 
Affide, aff'yde, betrothed ; intrusted. 
Afflicted, low, humble. 
Afford, to consent. 
Aff'rap, to strike, to strike down, to encounter, 

to assault. 
Affray, to terrify, fray ; terror. 
Affrende, to make friends. 
Affret, encounter. 

Affront, to confront, encounter, oppose. 
Affy, to betroth, espouse ; intrust. 
Affyannce, betrothal. 
Afore, in front, before. 
Aggrace, favor, kindness, goodwill ; to make 

gracious. 
Aggrate, to please, delight, charm, treat 

politely. 
Aglet, point, tag. 
Agree, to settle, to cause to agree. 
Agreeably, alike, in a manner to agree. 
Agri.se, agrise. agryse, agryze, to cause to 

shudder, to terrify, to make disgusted. 
Agryz'd, having a terrible look, disfigured. 
Agiiise, agnize, to deck, adorn, fashion, 

accoutre ; to disguise. 
Alabkifiter, alabaster. 
Albe, alhee, although. 
Aleggeaunce, alleviation. 
Aleu\ howling. 
Algate, algatea, altogether, wholly, by all 

means, in all ways, at all events, nevertheless. 
All, although ; ' all as' = as if. 
Allegge, to lessen, allay. 
Almes, a free allowance, alms. 
Alone (only), without compulsion. 
Alow, downwards. 
Aloio, praise. 
Alf<, also. 

Amaine, violently, by force. 
Amate, to daunt, subdue, to stupefy, terrify; to 

keep company with. 
Amaze, amazement. 
Ambassage, embassy. 
Amearsf, amerced, punished. 
Amenage, to manage, handle. 



557 



558 



GLOSSARY. 



Ainenaunce, carriage, behavior. 

Amis, amice, a priestly vestment. 

Amount, to mount up, ascend. 

Amove, to move, remove. 

And vile, anvil. 

Annoy, annoyance, grief, hurt. 

Antickes, antiques, ancient or fantastic figures. 

Apace, fast, copiously. 

Appall, to falter ; to weaken. 

Appay, apay (pret. and p. p. appay'd, ap- 

paid), to please, satisfy, pay. 
Appeach, to impeach, accuse. 
Appease, to cease from. 
Appele, to accuse ; to offer. 
Appellation, appeal. 

Apply, to attend to ; to bend one's steps to. 
Approven, to put to the proof, to prove. 
Approvaicnce, approval. 
Arbor eti, little grove. 
Aread, areed (p. p. ared), to tell, say, declare, 

describe, inform, teach, interpret, explain ; ap- 
point ; detect. 
Arear, areare, arere, arreare, to the rear, 

backward, aback. 
Aret, arret, to allot, intrust, adjudge. 
Areii}, in a row, in order. 
Arguments, signs, indications. 
Arights. rightly. 
Arke, box, chest. 
Arras, tapestry of Arras. 
Arraught (pret. of arreach), seized forcibly. 
As, as if. 

Askaunce, sideways. 
Aslake, to slake, abate, appease. 
Aslope, on the slope, aside. 
Assay, to try, attempt, assail, attack ; an attempt, 

trial ; value. 
Assayde, affected. 
Asseige, to besiege. 
Assignment, design. 
Assize, measure. 
Assoil, assoyl, to absolve, determine, set free, let 

loose, renew ; to pay ; remove. 
Assott, to befool, to beguile, bewilder. 
Assure, to promise, assert confidently. 
Assivage, to grow mild. 
Assyn, to mark or point out. 
Astart, to start up suddenly. 
Astert, befall, come upon suddenly. 
Astond, astou7id, astonied, astonished, stunned. 
Astonish, to stun. 
Asionying, confounding. 
Attach, to seize, take prisoner (attack). 
Attaine, attayne, to find, reach, fall in with. 
Attaint, to stain, obscure. 
Attempt, to tempt. 
Attendement, intent. 
Attent, attention. 
Attone {atone), at one, together, reconciled. 

Attone, attons, at once, together. 
Attrapt, dressed. 
Aticeen, aticeene, between. 
Atu'ixt, between, at intervals. 
Aumayl, to enamel. 
Availe, avals, to fall, sink, lower, descend, bow 

down. 
Avaunt, depart. 
Avauntage, advantage. 
Avauniing, advancing (boastfully). 
Avenge, revenge. 



Avengement, revenge. 

Aventred, thrust forward (at a venture). 

Aventring, pushing forward. 

Avise, avyze, to perceive, consider, regard, view, 

take note of, reflect, bethink ; advise. 
Avize/ull, observant. 
Avoid, to depart, go out. 

Avoure, ' to make avoure ' = to justify, maintain 
Aivarned, made, was made aware. 
Au-ayte, to wait for ; watch. 
Aivhape, to terrify, frighten. 
Aygulets {aglets), tags, points of gold. 
Aym, direction. 

Babe, doll. 
Bace, low. 
Bace, the game of prisoner's base ; 'bad bace'' =^ 

challenged. 
Baffuld, disgraced (as a recreant knight). 
Baile, to deliver ; custody. 
Bains, banns (of marriage). 
Bale, grief, sorrow, affliction, trouble ; bales, 

ruins ; baleful, full of bale, destructive, deadly ; 

balefulnesse, ruin. 
Balke, to disappoint, to deal at cross purposes ; a 

ridge between two furrows. 
Balliards, billiards. 
Ban, banne. to curse {band, cursed). 
Band, forbid, banish; assemble. 
Bandog, mastiff. 
Bane, death, destruction. 
Banket, banquet. 
Bannerall, a standard (shaped like a swallow's 

tail). 
Barhe, equipments of a horse, horse-armour. 
Barbican, a watch-tower. 
Bard, ornamented with bars (ornaments of a 

girdle). 
Base, low ; the lower part. 
Basenesse, a low humble condition. 
Basen-wide, widely extended. 
Bases, armor for the legs. 
Bash, to be abashed. 
Bastard, base, lowborn. 
Basted, sewed slightly. 
Bate, did bite; fed. 
Bate, to bait, attack. 
Bait, stick. 

Battailous, ready for battle, in order for battle. 
Batteilant, embattled, fortified. 
Battill (properly to fatten), to be of good flavor. 
Batton, stick, club. 
Bauldricke, belt. 
Bawne, a hill. 
Bay, a standstill, a position in which one is kept 

at bay. 
Baye, to bathe. 
Bayes (baies), laurels. 
Bayt, bait, artifice ; to bait (a bull) ; to cause to 

abate, to let rest. 
Beades, prayers. 
Beadroll, a list. 
Beare, burden ; bier. 
Beastlyhead, 'your beastlyhead,' 'a greeting 

to the person of a beast.' 
Beath'd, plunged. 
Beanperes, fair companions. 
Beckes, beaks. 

Become, to come to, go to, to suit, to happen. 
Bed, bad. 



GLOSSARY. 



559 



Bedight, dressed, equipped, decked, adorned ; 
'ill-bedight,' disfigured. 

Bed lick, to dive, dip. 

Befell, was fitting, proper. 

Beg inn e, beginning. 

Begord, stained with gore. 

Behave, to employ, use. 

BehedHt, behe>st, command. 

Behight, call, name, address, pronounce, prom- 
ise, command ; ordained ; adjudged, intrusted. 

Behoofe, jjrofit. 

Behote, to promise ; call ; hehott, promised, 

Behiccoyle, kind salutation or greeting. 

BelaiiLoure, belamy, a lover. 

Belay, to beset, encompass ; adorn. 

Beldame,, fair lady. 

Belgard, fair (or kind) looks. 

Bellibone, a beautiful and good woman. 

Belyde, counterfeited. 

Ben {bene, been), are. 

Bend, band. 

Beneficiall, a benefice. 

Bent, long stalks of {bent) grass. 

Beraft, bereft. 

Bere, to bear ; bier. 

Befseeke, beseech. 

Beneene, ' well-beseen,' of good appearance, 
comely. 

Befieme, beseeme, to be seemly, to seem fit, to 
suit, fit, become, appear. 

Benitting, befitting. 

Bexpeake, to address. 

Befipredd, adorned. 

Besprent, benpHnt, besprinkled. 

Bestad (bested, besiedded), situated, placed, 
placed in peril ; treated ; attended ; beset ; ' ill 
bested ' = in a bad plight. 

BeKtaine, to stain. 

Benfow, to place. 

Befitrad, bestrided. 

Bet, did beat. 

Betake (pret. betooke), to take (into), to deliver, 
bestow, betake one's self. 

Beteeme, to deliver, give. 

Bethinke, to make up one's mind. 

Bethrall, to take captive. 

Betide, betyde, to befall, to happen to ; betid, 
betyded, betight, befall, befallen. 

Beit, better. 

Bever, the front part of a helmet (covering the 
mouth). 

Bevy, company (of ladies). 

Bcuaile, to choose, select. 

Bewray, to reveal, betray, accuse ; signify. 

Bickerment, bickering, strife. 

Bid, to pray. 

Bide, to bid, offer. 

Bigg en, cup. 

Bilive, bylive, blive, forthwith, quickly. 

Bits, battle-axes. 

Blame, to blemish ; injury, hurt. 

Blanckt, confounded, i»ut'out of countenance. 

Blast, to wither. 

Blatter, to bluster (in note). 

Blaze, to blazon forth, proclaim. 

Blemiiihment, a blemish. 

Blend (pret. and p. part, blent), to mix, con- 
fuse, confound, defile, blemish, stain, obscure. 
Blent, blinded, obscured, blotted. 

Blere, to blear (one's eyes), deceive. 



Bless, to preserve, deliver ; to brandish. 

Blesse, bliss. 

Blin, to cease. 

BUncked, dimmed. 

Blind, dark. 

Blisf, wounded, struck. 

Blist, blessed. 

Bloncket, liveries, gray coats. 

Blont, blunt, unpohshed. 

Bloosme, blossom, bloom. 

Blot, blotten, to defame, blemish. 

Blubbred, wet or stained with tears. 

Boad, ' booties boad ' = lived uselessly, profit- 
lessly. 

Boads, bodes, portends. 

Bode, abode. 

Boley (or buala), ' place (situated in a grassy 
hollow) enclosed by man in which to put 
cattle in the spring and summer months, 
while on the mountain pastures — a place that 
insures safety.' (Henky Kinahan in The 
Athenceum, No. 2167, May 8, 1869). 

Bollet, bullet. 

Bolt, arrow. 

Bond, bound. 

Boone, prayer, petition. 

Board, bord, to accost, to address, talk with ; 
conversation ; go side by side. 

Boot, to avail, profit ; booty, gain. 

Booting, availing. 

Bore, borne. 

Borde, coast. 

Bordraying (pi. bordrags), border ravaging, 
border raid. 

Boroioe, borroive, pledge, surety. 

Borrell, rustic. 

Basse, middle of shield. 

Bouget, budget. 

Bought, fold. 

Boult, to sift, bolt. 

Bounse, to beat. 

Bountie, bounty, goodness. Boiinteous, gen- 
erous, good. Boimtyhed, generosity. 

Bourdon, burden (of a song). 

Bourne, boundary. 

Bout, about. 

Bauzing-can, a drinking-can. 

Bownd, to lead (by a direct course). 

Boure, chamber, inner room ; to lodge, shelter. 

Boicrs, muscles (of the shoulder). 

Boy, a term of reproach. 

Boystrous, rough, rude (as aj)pHed to a club). 

Brace, to embrace, encompass. 

Brag, proudly. Bragly, proudly. Bragging, 
proud. 

Brame, sharp passion (cf. O.E. brerne, severe, 
sharp). 

Bransles, dances, brawls. 

Brast, burst. 

Brave, fair, beautiful. 

Braverie, finery. 

Bravely, gallantly, splendidly. 

Braicned, muscular, brawny. 

Bray (braie), to cry out suddenly, cry aloud, 
utter aloud ; gasp out. 

Braynepan, skull. 

Breaded, braided, embroidered. 

Breare, brere, briar. 

Breech, breeches. 

Breede, work, produce. 



560 



GLOSSARY. 



Breem, hreme, boisterous, rough, sharp. 


Caved, made hollow. 


Brenne^ to burn. 


Centonel, a sentinel. 


Bre»t. burnt. 


Certes, certainly. 


BHckle. brittle. 


Cesse, to cease. 


Btngandine, a kiud of light vessel. 


Cesure, a breaking off, stop. 


Brim, margin of the horizon. 


Chaffar, to chaffer, exchange. 

Chalenge, to claim ; to track, follow ; accusation. 


Brise, hryze, gadfly. 


Brocage, pimping. 


Chamelot water, camlet watered. 


Broch, to commence, broach. 


Chamfred, wrinkled, furrowed. 


Br ode, abroad. 


Champain, champian, champion, open coun- 


Brand, sword. 


try, plain. 


Brondiron, sword. 


Champion esse, a female warrior. 


Brands, embers, brands. 


Character, image. 


Broad, a brooding-place (? an error for hood = 


Charge, assault, attack. 


O.E. boad or abood, an abode, resting-place; 


Charget, chariot. 


cf. bade). 


Charm, to tune ; a tune, song. 


Brooke, to endure, bear, brook. 


Chauff, chaufe, to become warm, to be irritated, 


Bronzes, twigs. 


to chafe ; rage. 


Briuit, assault. 


Chaun'ceful, hazardous. 


Brust, burst. 


Chaunticleer, the cock. 


Bruted, renowned, bruited. 


Chaw, jaw ; to chew. 


Brutenesse, brutishnesse, brutaUty, brutelike 


Chayr'e, chary. 


state. 


Chayre, chariot. 


Buckle to, make ready. 


Cheare, chere, countenance, favor, cheer. 


Buff {{A. biiffes), a blow. 


Chearen, to cheer up. 


Bug. apparition, bugbear, goblin. 


Checked, chequered. 


Bugle, wild ox. 


Checklaton (O.E. ciclatan), a rich kind of cloth. 


Buegle, bead. 


Cherelie, cheerfully. 


Bullian, pure gold. 


Cherishment, a cherishing. 


Burdenous, heavy. 


Cherry, to cherish. 


Burganet, headpiece, helmet. 


Cheverye, chief rent. 


Burgein, burgeon, bud. 


Chevisaunee, enterprise, undertaking, perform- 


Buxkets, bushes. 


ance, bargain. 


Busse, kiss. 


Chickens (faithlesse), heathen brood. 


But-if, unless. 


Chief e, ' wrought with a chiefe,' worked with a 


Buxom, obedient, yielding, tractable. 


head (like a nosegav). 


By-and-by, one by one, singly. 


Childed, gave birth to a child. 


Byde, abide. Byding, abiding, remaining. 


Chimney, fireplace. 


Bylive, quickly, also active. See Blive, belive. 


Chine, back. 


Bynempt, named, appointed ; bequeathed. 


Charle, churl. 




Chynd, cut, divided. 


Cabinet, cottage, little cabin. 


Clark, clerk, scholar. 


Coerule, azure. 


Clave, clave, cleft, did cleave. 


Caitive, caxjtive, subject, captive ; vile, base. 


Cleane, cleene, dene, pure, clean; entirely. 


menial, rascal. 


Cleanly, skilfully. 


Call, caul, cowl, cap. 


Cleep, to call. 


Camis, camus, a light, loose robe of some light 


Clemence, clemency. 


material (as silk, &c.), chemise. 


Clew, plot, purpose (properly a hank of thread). 


Can or Gan (an auxiliary of the past tense), did. 


Clift, cliff. 


Can, knows. 


Clinck, clicket, latch. 


Cancred, cankerd, corrupt. 


Clomhe, climbed, mounted. 


Canon hitt, a smooth round bit (for horses). 


Close, secret. Closely, secretly. 


Capitayn, captain. 


Olouches, clutches. 


Caprifole, woodbine. 


Clouted, bandaged with a clout or rag. 


Captivaunce, captivity. 


Clayd, wounded. 


Captived, taken captive, enslaved. 


Coast, to approach. 


Capuccia, hood (of a cloak), capuchin. 


Cach, coach. 


Card, chart. 


Cocked, in cocks (in heaps). 


Care, sorrow, grief, injury. Careful, sorrowful. 


Cognizaunce, knowledge, recollection. 


Careless, free from care ; uncared for. 


Colled, embraced, fondled. 


Carke, care, sorrow, grief. 


Collusion, deceit, cunning. 


Carl, carle, an old man ; churl. 


Colour, pretence ; to hide. 


Carriage, burden. 


Coloured, deceitful, crafty. 


Cast, to consider, plot, resolve, purpose ; time. 


Col wort, cabbage-plant. 


period, opportunity, ' nere their utmost casf 


Camber, to encumber. Combrous, laborious, 


= almost dead ; a couple. 


troublesome. 


Castory, color (red or pink). 


Commen, common, to commune, discourse. 


Caudron, caldron. 


Comment, to relate (falsely). 


Causen, to assign a cause or reason, explain. 


Commodity, advantage. 


Cautelous, wary. 


Commonly, in common, equally. 



GLOSSARY. 



561 



Compacte (?), compacted, concerted. 

Compacted, close. Compacture, a close knit- 
ting together. 

Companie, companion. 

Compare, to collect, procure. 

Compasse, circuit. 

Coinpafit, contrived. Compast creast, the round 
part of the helmet. 

Compel, to cite, call to aid. 

Complement, perfection (of character) ; union. 

CompUsh, to accomplish. 

Complyne, evensong. 

Comportaunce, behavior. 

Compound, to agree. 

Comprize, to comprehend, understand. 

Comproinnciall, to be contained in the same 
province with. 

Compyle, to heap up ; frame ; settle, reconcile. 

Conceiplful, thoughtful. 

Concent, to harmonize. 

Concent, harmony. 

Concrexo, to grow together. 

Cond, learnt. 

Condign, worthy. 

Conditions, qualities. 

Conduct, conductor, guide ; management. 

ConfuHion, destruction. 

Conge, leave. 

Conjure, to conspire. 

Conne, to know. 

Consort, company, companion ; concert ; to com- 
bine, unite (in harmony). 

Constraint, distress, uneasiness. 

Containe, to restrain, control. 

Conteck, dispute. 

Contempt, contemned. 

Contrive, to wear out, spend. 

Controverse, debate, controversy, 

Convenable, conformable. 

Convent, to convene, summon. 

Convert, to turn. 

Convince, to conquer, overthrow. 

Coosen, kindred. 

Coosinage, fraud. 

Cope, to chop, bargain with. 

Copesniate, a companion. 

Coportion, an equal portion. 

Corage, heart, mind ; wrath. 

Cotbe, crooked. 

Corbe, corbel, a projecting piece of wood, stone, 
or iron, placed so as to support a weight of 
material. 

CordeiJcayne, cordwayne, cordovan leather. 

Coronall. a wreath, garland. 

Coronation, carnation. 

Corpse, a (living) body. Corse, a body, bulk, 
frame. 

Corsive, corrosive. 

Cosset, a hand-reared lamb. 

Cost, to approach, come to one's side. 

Cote, sheep-fold. 

Cott, a little boat. 

Couched, bent; laid (in order). 

Could, knew. 

Count, an object of interest or account. 

Countenaunce, to make a shoAv of. 

Counter, encounter. 

Countercast, counterplot. 

Counterchannge, return of a blow. 

Counterfesaunce, a counterfeiting. 



Counterpoys, to counterbalance. 

Countervnyle, to oppose, resist. 

Coupe, a cage, coop. 

Couplement, couple. 

Cotire, to cover, protect. 

Courst, chased. 

Courting, attendance at court. 

Coioth, could ; knew, knew how. 

Covert, concealed. 

Coverture, covering, shelter. 

Coretise, covetize, covetousness. 

Coirardree, cowardice. 

Crack nell, a thin hard-baked biscuit. 

Crmsie, cracked. 

Crag, cragge, neck. 

Craggy, knotty. 

Crake, to boast ; boast, boasting. 

Crank, a winding. 

Crank, vigorously. 

Crappleii. grapples, claws. 

erased helth, impaired health. 

Cratch, rack, crib. 

Creakie, indented with creeks. 

Vreasted, crested, tufted. 

Creete, cattle, live stock. 

Cremosin, cremsin, crimson. 

Crewe (priestes crewe) = cretvet, cruise, vessel. 

Crime, accusation, reproach, fault. 

Crisped, curly (hair). 

Crooke (cross), gibbet. 

Cros-cut, to pierce or cut across. Croslet, a 

little cross. 
Croud, a fiddle. 

Cruddle, to curdle. Cruddy, curdled. 
Crumenall, purse. 
Cud, not the thing chewed, but the stomach 

where the food is received before rumination. 
Cuffing (or cuffiing), striking. 
Cillter, a ploughshare. 
Culver, dove. 

Culvering, cul^erin, a sort of cannon. 
Cumbrous, troublesome. 
Curats, curiets, cuirasses. 
Curelesse, hard to be cured, incurable. 
Curtaxe, cutlass. 
Cut, fashion. 

DoRdale, skilful ; fertile. 

Daint, daynt. dainty (superl. dayntest). 
Dainty, rare, valuable. 

Dallie, to trifle. Dalliaunce, idle talk, trifling. 

Dame, lady. 

Damnify, to injure, damage. 

Damozel, damsel. 

Danisk, Danish. 

Dapper, neat, pretty. 

Darrayne, to prepare, get ready, for battle. 

Darred, dazzled, frightened ('a darred lark ' is 
generally explained as a lark caught (? fright- 
ened) by means of a looking-glass). 

Dayesman, a judge, arbitrator. 

Daze, to dazzle, dim ; to confound. 

Dead-doing, death-dealing. 

Deaded. deadened. 

Dealth, bestows. 

Deare, valuable, precious. 

Deare. hurt, injury ; sore, sad ; sorely. 

Dearling, darling. 

Dearnelie, sorrowfully, mournfully (literally 
secretly, hence lonely, sadly, &c.). 



562 



GLOSSARY. 



Deaw, to bedew. 

Debate, to contend, strive ; battle, strife. De- 

hatement, debate. 
Debonaire, gracious, courteous. 
Decay, to destroy, perish, relax ; destruction, 

ruin, death. 
Deceaved, taken by deceit, 
Deceipt, deceit. 
Decesse, decease. 
1 Decreed, determined on. 
Decretved, decreased. 
\ Deeme (pret. dempst), to .judge, deem, ' deeme 
\ his payne ' = adjudge his punishment. 
Deeritig-dooers, doers of daring deeds. 
Deface, to defeat. 
defame, disgrace, dishonor. 
.)efaste, defaced, destroyed. 
Defeasaunce, defeat. 
Defeature, defeat. 
Defend, to keep or ward oflF. 
Deflly, deftly, gracefully. 
Define, to settle, decide. 
Deforme, shapeless, deformed. 
Defray, to avert (by a proper settlement) ; 

appease. 
Degendered, degenerated. 
Delay, to temper, stop, remove. 
Delice ( Deliice), flower-de-lice ( = flos delici- 

arum), the iris. 
Deh'ces, delights. Delightsome, delightful. 
Dell, hole. 

Delve, dell, hole, cave. 
Demayne, demeane, demeasnure, demeanor, 

bearing, treatment. Demeand, treated, 
Demisse, submissive, 
Dempt. See Deeme. 
Denay, to deny. 
Dent, dint, blow, 
Deoio, dew. 
Depainted, depicted. 

Depart, to divide, separate, remove ; departure. 
Depeinct, depeincten, to paint. 
Depend, to hang down. 
Deprave, to defame. 

Der-doing= performance of daring deeds. 
Dernful, mournful. See Dearnelie. 
Deriily, secretly ; grievously, severely. 
Derring-doe, daring deeds, warlike deeds, 
Derth, scarcity. 

Deryne, to draw away, transfer. 
Descrie, descry, to perceive, discover ; reveal. 
Descrive, to describe. 
Desine. to denote. 
DespairefuU drift, hopeless cause. 
Desperate, despairing. 

Despight, anger, malice ; a scornful defiance, 
Despightfal, despiteous, malicious, 
Despoyl, to unrobe, undress. 
Desse, dais. 
Desynde, directed, 
Detaine, detention, 
Devicefull, full of devices (as masques, triumphs, 

«fec,). 
Devise, devize, to guess at ; purpose ; to describe, 

talk. Devized, painted. Devized of, reflected 

on. 
Dei-oyr, duty. 
Deiii, due, Dewfull, due. 
Den^elap, palear. 
Diapase, diapason. 



Diapred, variegated. 

Difference, choice. 

Diffused, scattered. 

Dight, to order, to arrange, prepare, dress, deck; 
mark. 

Dilate, to spread abroad, enlarge upon. 

Dinting, striking. 

Dint, scar, dent ; ' dolors dint ' = pang of grief. 

Diriges, dirges. 

Dirk, to darken ; darkly, 

Disaray, disorder. 

Disaccord, to withhold consent. 

Disadvaunce, to lower, to draw back. 

Disaventroiis, unfortunate, unsuccessful, un- 
happy. Disaventure, mishap, misfortune, 

Disbiirden, to unburden. 

Discharge, to acquit one's self of, account for. 

Discide, to cut in two. 

Disciple, to discipline. 

Disclaim, to expel. 

Disclose (pret. discloste), to unfold, transform ; 
set free, disengage, 

Discolourd, many-colored. 

Discomfited, disconcerted. 

Discommend, to speak disparagingly of, 

Discounsell, to dissuade. 

Discoure, disctire, to discover. 

Discourse, shifting. 

Discourteise, discourteous. 

Discreet, differing, 

Discust, thrown or shook off. 

Disease, to distress ; uneasiness. Diseased, ill 
at ease, afflicted, 

Disentrayle, to draw forth, to cause to flow. 

Disgrace, deformity, 

Disguizement, disguise. 

Dish able, to disparage, 

Disleall {disloyal), perfidious. 

Dislikeful, disagreeable. 

Disloignd, separated. 

Dismall, fatal. 

Dismay, to subdue, defeat, grieve, disquiet ; de- 
feat, ruin. Dismayfull, terrifying. 

Dis7nayd=ra.\s,ma,Ae, deformed. 

Disinayl, to take off a coat of mail. 

Dispacing, pacing, roaming. 

Dispairful, despairing. See DespairefuU. 

Disparage, disparagement. 

Dispart, to divide. 

Dispence, to pay for; expense; abundance. 

Dispiteous, cruel. 

Display, to spread out ; discover, 

Disple, to discipline. 

Displeasance, displeasaunce, displeasure. 

Disport, play, sport. 

Disprad, dispred, spread abroad, 

Dispraize, to disparage, 

Dispredden (pi.), spread out. 

Disprofesse, to abandon. 

Dispurvayaunce, want of provisions. 

Disseise, disseize, to dispossess. 

Disshirered, shivered to pieces. 

Dissolute, weak, 

Distayne, to defile. 

Distent, beaten out. 

Disthronize, to dethrone. 

Distinct, marked. 

Distraine, to rend. 

Distraught, distracted ; drawn apart, separated. 

Distroubled, greatly troubled, 



GLOSSARY 



563 



Dite, diyhte, to make ready. 

Ditt, ditty, song. 

Diverse, distracting, diverting. 

Biferst, diverged, turned off. 

Divide, to play a florid passage in music 

(Kitchin). 
Divin.de, deified. 
Divorced, separated by force. 
Doule= dole, destruction. 
Documents, instructions. 
Doe, to cause. 
Doffe, to put off. 

Dole, doole, sorrow, grief. Doolefxdl, sorrowful. 
Dolor {dolour), grief. 
Dome, doome, doom, Judgment, censure. 
Don, to put on. 
Done, donne, to do, 'of well to donne' = of 

well-doing ; doen, to cause ; doen (pi.), they do. 
Donne, dun. 

Doomefull, threatening doom. 
Dortours, sleeping apartments. 
Doted, foolish. 
Doubt, fear (also to fear) ; a matter of doubt. 

Doubtful, fearful. 
Doubted, redoubted. 
Drad, dred, dread, dreaded, feared ; an object 

of reverence. Dreddest, most dread. 
Draft, drift, aim, purpose. 
Drapet, cloth. 

Draught { = draft), stratagem, aim. 
Drave, drove. 

Dread, fury. Dreadful, fearful. 
Dreare, Drere {Dreriment), grief, sorrow, 

dreadful force. Dreinhed, drearyhood, dry- 

rihed, dreariness, affliction. 
Drent, drowned. 
Dresse, to dispose, adorn. 
Drevill, a slave. 
Droome, a drum. 
Droupe, to droop. 
Di-ousy-hed, drowsiness. 
Drouth, drought. 
Drover, a boat. 
Droyle, to work sluggishly. 
Drugs, dregs. 
Dumpish, heavy. 
Duraunce, bondage. 
Durefull, enduring. 
Diiresse, confinement. 
Dye, lot, destiny. 

Earne, to yearn ; to be grieved. 

Earsl, erst, first, soonest, previously ; at earst, 

at length ; at present. 
Eastern ngs, men of the East (Norwegians, 

Danes, &c.). 
Eath, ethe, easy. 
Edge, to sharpen. 
Ed if ye. to build, inhabit. 
Eeke, eke, to increase ; also. 
Effierced, made fierce, inflamed. 
Efforce, to oppose. 
Effoi'ced, efforst, forced, constrained, compelled 

(to yield). 
Effraid, scared. 

Eft. afterwards, again, forthwith, moreover. 
Eftsoones, soon after, forthwith. 
Eide, seen. 
Eive, eyes. 
Eld, age, old age. 



Elfe, fairy. 

Els {elles), else, elsewhere, otherwise. 

Embace. embase, to bring or cast down, humili- 
ate. Embaste, debased, dishonored. 

Ejnbar, to guard, confine. 

Embassade, ambassador. 

Etnbassage, embassy, message. 

Embatteil, to arm for battle. 

Embaulm, to anoint. 

Embay, to bathe ; bask. 

Embayl, to bind up. 

Embellisht, adorned (with flowers). 

Embosome, to foster. 

Emboss, to overwhelm, press hard ; to surround, 
enclose. 

Embosse, to adorn, ornament, array. 

Embou-, to arch over, to curve, bend. 

Enibowell, to take out the bowels. 

Lmboiver, to take shelter. 

Emboyl, to boil (with anger). Emboyled, 
heated. 

Embrace, to brace, to fasten or bind ; to pro- 
tect. 

Embracement, an embrace. 

Embrave, to decorate. 

Embreade, embroder, to embroider. 

Embrewe, to stain with blood. 

Embusied, occupied. 

Eme, uncle. 

Etneraud, emerald. 

Emmove, to move. 

Emong, among. Emongest, amongst. 

Empale, to enclose, fringe. 

Empare, empair, to diminish, impair, hurt. 

Emparlaunce, treaty. 

Empart, assign. 

Empassioned, empassionate, moved or touched 
with passion, feeling. 

Empeach, to hinder, prevent; hindrance; dis- 
figurement. 

Empeopled, dwelt. 

Emperce, empierce, to pierce through (pret. e^n- 
perst, empierst). 

Emperill, to endanger. 

Emperish, to perish, decay. 

Empight, fixed, settled. 

Emplonged, plunged. 

Empoysoned, poisoned. 

Emprise, emprize, enterprise, attempt. 

Empurpjled . purple-d}-ed. 

Enaunter, lest. 

Enbosome. to fix firmly. 

Enchace, ^jjc^as^, to adorn, embellish ; to honor 
with befitting terms ; engrave ; dart. 

Encheason, reason, cause, occasion. 

Eneomberment, hindrance. 

Encroche, to come on. 

Endamage, to damage, do harm. 

Endangerment. danger. 

Endevourment. endeavor, labor. 

Endeic, to endow. 

Endite, to censure. 

Endlong, from end to end, continuously. 

Endosse, write on the back, indorse. 

Endure, to harden. 

Ene. once. 

Enfeloii'd, made fell or fierce. 

Enfested. See Infest. 

Enjierce, to make fierce. 

Enforme, to fashion. 



5^4 



GLOSSARY. 



Enfouldred, hurled out like thunder and light- 
ning. 

Engin, wiles, deceit, contrivance. 

Engirt, surrounded. 

Englut, to glut, fill. 

Engore, to gore, wound. 

Engorge, to devour, glut. 

Engvaffed, engraft, implanted, fixed. 

Engrained, dyed. 

Engrasp, to grasp. 

Engrave, to burv ; to cut, pierce. 

Engreeve, engrieve, to grieve, to be vexed. 

EngroHHe, to buy up in large quantities, to re- 
grate ; to write a large letter. 

Engrof^te, made thick. 

Enhaunse, to lift up, raise. 

Enlargen, enlarge, to set at large, deliver. 

E?ilumine, to illumine. 

Enmove, to move. See Emmove. 

Enrace, to implant. 

Enragement, rapture. 

Enraunge, to range. 

Enraanged, ranged in order. 

Enrold, encircled. 

Ens6ame>i, encloses. 

Ensew, ensue, to follow after, pursue. Ensil- 
ing, following. 

Ensnarle, to ensnare, entangle. 

Entayle, to carve, inlay ; (sb.) carving. 

Enterdeale, negotiation. 

Enterpris, to undertake. 

Enterprise, to entertain ; take in hand. 

Entertain, take, receive (pay). Entertayne, 
entertainment, hospitality. 

Entertake, to entertain. 

Entire, inward, internal. Entyrely, earnestly ; 
entirely. 

Entraile, entrayl, to twist, entwine, inter- 
lace. 

Entraile, twisting, entanglement. 

Entrall, the lowest part, depth (bowels). 

Entreat, to treat of. treat. 

Enure, to use, practise. Enured, accustomed ; 
committed habitually. 

Envy, to be angry, indignant ; to emulate. 

EmcaUnwe, roll about. 

Enwomhed, pregnant. 

Emorap, to wrap up. 

Equall, impartial. 

Equipage, array, equipment ; to array, equip. 

Ermelin, an ermine. 

Ermine, skin of the ermine. 

Erne, to yearn. 

Errant, wandering. 

Errour, wandering. 

Et\<it. See Ear St. 

Eschetc, escape. 

Esloyne, to withdraw. 

Espiall, sight, appearance, observation. 

Essoyne, to excuse. 

Estate, state, rank. 

Eterne, eternal. Eternize, to make eternal. 

Eternize, to immortalize. 

Ethe, easy. 

Eugh, yew. Eughen, ewghen, of yew. 

Evangely, gospel. 

Evill, poor, unskilful. 

Ewfts, efts. 

Exanimate, lifeless. 

Excheat, gain, profit, escheat. 



Expert, to experience. 

Expire, breathe out; to fulfil a term, put an 

end to. 
Express, to press out. 
Extasie, surprise. 
Extent, stretched out. 
Extirpe, to root out. 
Extort, extorted. 
Extract, descended. 
Extreate, extraction. 
Exuls, exiles. 

Eyas, newly-fledged young. 
Eyne, eyes. 

Face, to carry a false appearance. 

Fact, feat, deed. 

Fail,fayl, to deceive ; to cause to fail. 

Fain, fayne, glad, eager; Jaynd, desired; 

faynes, delights. 
Fain, fayne, to feign, dissemble; to mistake; 

imagine ; '■fained dreadful ' = apparently 

dreadful. 
Faitour, faytour, cheat, deceiver, vagabond, 

villain. 
Fallen, befall. 

Falsed, falsified, deceived ; insecure, weak. 
Falses, falsehoods. Falser, a liar. 
Faltring, faltering. 

Fantasy, fantazy, fancy ; apprehension. 
Fare, to go, proceed, act, deal. 
Farforth, very far. 
Fake, having a face. 
Fastnesse, stronghold. 
Fate, destined term of life. Fatal, ordained 

by fate. 
Fault, to off"end, be in error. 
Favour, feature. 
Favourlesse, not showing favor. 
Fay, a fairy ; faith. 

Fear, f ear e, companion; tofeare, together. 
Fear, fearen, to frighten; 'feared o/,' 

alarmed by. 
FearfuU, timid. 
Feastfull, festival. 
Feat'eously , neatly. 
Feature, fashion, form, character. 
Fee, tenure ; pay, service ; property. 
Feeble, enfeebled. Feblesse, feebleness. 
Feeld (golden), an emblazoned field (of a knight's 

shield). 
Feend, fiend, devil. 
Feld, let fall, thrown down. 
Fell, befell ; gall. 
Fell, fierce, cruel. Felly, cruelly. Fellonest, 

most fell. Fellonous, Avicked, fell. Felnesse, 

cruelty, fierceness. 
Feminitee, womanhood. 
Fensible, fit for defence, defensible. 
Feood, feud, enmity. 
Fere, companion, husband. 
Ferme, lodging. 
Ferry, a ferry boat. 
Fett, to fetch"; fetched (rescued). 
Feutre,feictre, to place the spear in the rest, to 

prepare for battle. 
Fiaunt, commission, flat. 
File, to defile. 
File, to polish, smoothe. 
Fine, end. 
Firm, to fix firmly. 



GLOSSARY. 



56s 



Fit, to be fitting ; ' Of loves were fitted ' = were 


For ray, to ravage, prey on ; a raid. 


suited, furnished with lovers. 


Forsake, to avoid ; renounce. 


Fit,fitt, emotion, passion, grief; a musical strain. 


Fo'^say, forsake. 


Flaggy, loose. 


Forsayd, denied residence, banished. 


Flati, plain. 


Forslacke, forsloe, forslow, to delay, waste in 


F/ake, a flash. 


sloth, neglect, omit, impede. 


Flamed, inflamed. 


Forstall, forstallen, to prevent. See Forestall. 


Flasket, a basket. 


Forsuai, spent wiih heat. 


Flatting, fiatwise, with the flat side (of the 


Forswojick, tired with overwork. 


sword). 


Forthink, to repent, be sorry for ; to give up. 


Flaw, a gust of wind. 


Forthright, straightway. 


Fleare, to mock. 


Forthy, therefore, because. 


Fleet, to sail, float ; to flit. 


Fortilage, a little fortress. 


Fleur-de-luce, the iris. See Delice. 


Fortune, to happen. 


Flex, flax. 


Fortunize, to make happy. 


Flit, fleet, swift ; changing ; unsubstantial, light. 


Fortuneless, unfortunate. 


Flit, flitte, to move, change, flee. Flitting, 


Forwandre, to stray away. 


fleeting; yielding. 


Forwasted, utterly wasted. 


Flong, flung. 


Forxoearie {foruearied), utterly wearie, worn 


Flore, ground, spot. 
Flout, to mock, deride. 


out. 


Forwent, left ; did forgo. 


Flowrets, little flowers. 


Forworne, much worne. 


Flushing, rapidly flowing. 


Foster, forester. 


Fodder, grass. 4 


Fovldring, thundering. 


Foen, foes. 


Found, established. 


Foile, a leaf (of metal). 


Foundring, toppling, falling. 


Foison, abundance, plenty. 


Foy, allegiance, faith. 


Folkmote, a meeting, assembly. 


Foyle, repulse, defeat ; to defeat, ruin, overthrow. 


Fon, a fool. Fonly, foolishly. 


Foyne, to thrust, push. 


Fond, foolish, doting ; fondling, fool. Fondly, 


Foyson, abundance. 


foolishly. Fondness, folly. 


Fraight, fraught. 


Fond, found ; tried. 


Frame, to make, form, support, prepare, direct ; 


Fone, foes. 


to put in shape for motion. 


Food, feud. 


FrancJiisement, deliverance. 


Foolhappie, undesigned. 


Franck, free, forward. 


Foolhardise, foolhardiness, folly. 


Francklin, freeman, freeholder. 


For, notwithstanding : for fear of ; what for = 


Franion, a loose woman. 


what sort of? 


Fray, to frighten, terrify, alarm ; afiray. 


Fordo, to destroy, Fordonne, utterly undone, 


Frenne, a stranger. 


ruined, overcome. 


Fret, ornamental border. Fretted, ornamented 


Forehy, forhy, hard by, near ; with ; past. 


with fret-work. 


Forecast, previously determined. 


Frett, to consume. 


Foredamned, utterly damned. 


Friend, to befriend. 


Forelay, to lay before, or over. 


Frigot, a little boat. 


Forelevt, given up entirely. 


Friskes, gambols. 


Forelifting, lifting up in front. 


Frize, to freeze. 


Forepast, gone by. 


Fro, from. 


Fore-red, foretold. 


Frolicke, ' fained her to frolicke ' = desired her 


Foreshewed, previously instructed. 


to be cheerful. 


Foreside, the side to the fore, external covering. 


Fronts, foreheads. 


For espent, forspent, utterly wasted. 


Frorne, frozen. 


Forestall, to take previous possession of, to hin- 


Frory, frosty, frozen. 


der, obstruct. 


Frounce, to fold, plait. 


Foretaught, previously taught. 


Froward = fromward, at a distance from. 


Forewent, gone before. 


Frowie, musty. 


Forged, false. 


Fruict, fruit. 


Forgery, fiction, deceit ; a counterfeit or assumed 


Fry, swarms (of young children). 


character. 


Fry, to foam. 


Forgire, to give up. 


Fulmined. fulminated. 


Forhaile, to overtake. 


Fume, to pass away like smoke. 


Forhent, overtaken. 


FuneralL death. 


Forlent, gave up. 


Furniment, furnishing. 


Forlore, forlorn, utterly lost, abandoned ; for- 


Furriiture, gear, equipment. 


lore (pret.), deserted, lost (to sense of pro- 


Fylde, felt. 


priety). 


Fi/le, to polish. 


Formally, expressly. 


F'yled, kept in files, registered. 


Formerlie, beforehand. 




Forpas, to pass over. 


Gage, pledge. 


Forpassed, past by or through. 


Gain, against (as in gainstrive). 


Forpined, pined away. 


Gainsay, denial. 



566 



GLOSSARY. 



Galage (galoche), a wooden shoe. 

Galingale, sweet cyperus. 

Gall, bile. 

GallimaM.fr ay, hotch-potch. 

Gamesome, pleasant. 

Gan (can), began, did. 

Gang, to go. 

Gard, safeguard, protection. 

Garran, a kind of horse. 

Garre, to cause, make. 

Gasping, gaping. 

GastfuU, fearful, dreary. 

Gate, a goat. 

Gate, way, procession. 

Gaudy green, a robe of a light green. 

Gazement, gaze. 

Gealosy, gelosy, jealousy. 

Geare, gere, gear, dress, equipment ; matter, 
affair. 

Geare, to jeer, scoflF. 

Geason, rare, uncommon. 

Gelly, clotted. 

Gelt, gold ; bribed with gold. 

Gelt. This word has been variously explained 
— by some as a gelding, by others as a guilty 
person. Professor Child explains it as a wild 
Irishman, Celt. 

Gelt, castrated. 

Gent, gentle, kind, accomplished. 

Gere. See Geare. 

German, brother. 

Gerne, to grin. 

Gesse, to deein, think, guess. 

Gest, deed of arms ; gesture, deportment, bear- 
ing. 

Ghastly, terrible. Ghastlinesse, terribleness. 

Ghess, to guess, deem. 

Ghost, spirit, soul. 

Giambeux, leggings, greaves. 

Gin, engine (of torture) ; plot, contrivance, snare. 

Giti, ginne, to begin. 

Gipsen, a gipsy. 

Giust, tournaments, tilts ; to joust, tilt. 

Glade, valley, dale. 

Glade, to gladden. 

Glaive, glave, glayve, a sword. 

Glee, pleasure? fee property. 

Glenne, country, hamlet. 

Glib, a thick bush of hair overhanging the eyes. 

Glims, glimpse, indistinct light. 

Glinne, glen. 

Glitterand, ghttering. 

Glister, to gUtter, shine. 

Glode, glided. 

Glory, vainglory, boasting. 

Glazing, deceitful. 

Glutted, filled. 

Gnarre, growl, snarl, 

Gobbeline, goblin. 

Gobbet, morsel, piece. 

Godded, deified. 

Goe, gone. 

Gondelay, gondola. 

Goodlihed, goodlihead, goodness ; goodly ap- 
pearance. 

Gooldes, marigolds. 

Gore, to pierce, wound. 
Gore-blood, clotted blood. 
Gorge, throat. 
Gorget, armor for the throat. 



Goshawke, a large kind of hawk. 

Gossib, kinsman. 

Gourmandize, greediness. 

Governall, government. 

Governaunce, government. 

Government, control. 

Grace, favor, kindness ; to give favor to. 

Graced, grafted. 

Graile, gravel. 

Graine, dye (scarlet). 

Grammercy, many thanks. 

Grange, dwelling, place. 

Graple, to tug. 

Graplernent, grasp, clutch. 

Graste, graced, favored. 

Grate, to scorn. 

Grayle, gravel. 

Grayle, the holy vessel said to have been used at 

Our Saviour's Last Supper. 
Greave, grove. 
Gree, degree, rank. 
Gree, favor, goodwill. 
Greete, to congratulate, praise; mournful; to 

assign with praise ; to weep, 
Gren, to grin, snarl. 
Grenning, grinning. 
Gride, pierce. 
Griefull, grievous. 
Griesie, thick, sluggish ; gray. 
Grieslie, grisely, horrible. 
Grieved, hurt. 

Grimnes, severity, savageness (Embl.). 
Grin, to gnash the teeth. 
Gripe, to grasp. 

Griple, gripe, grasp ; grasping, greedy. 
Gronefull, full of groans. 
Groome, man, a young man, a servant, 
Grosse, heavy ; the whole. 

Groundhold, ground-tackle (as cables, anchors). 
Groveling, with face flat to the ground. 
Groynd, growled. 

Grudge, gruteh, to murmur, growl. 
Gryde, cut, pierce through. 
Gryesy, grysie, squalid ; foggy, moist. 
Gryfon, gryphon, grifiin (a fabulous animal), 

perhaps used for vulture, eagle. 
Grypt, ' through grypt ' = through-gyrd, pierced 

through. 
Guarish, to heal. 
Guerdon, reward. 
Guilen, to beguile. 
Guiler, guyler, deceiver. 
Guilt, guilded. 

Guize, manner, mode (of Hfe), custom. 
Gulfe, throat. 

Guiphing, flowing (like a gulf). 
Gust, taste. 
Gybe, gibe (Embl.). 
Gyeld, guild, courthouse. 
Gynst, beginnest. 
Gyre, circle, course. 
Gyvd, fettered. 

Habergeon, haberjeon, a small coat of mail, 

armor for the neck and breast. 
Habiliment, clothing. 
Habitaunce, habitation. 
Hable, able, fit. 

Hacqueton, a jacket worn under armor. 
Hagard, wild, untamed. 



GLOSSARY. 



567 



Haile, hayl, to drag, haul. 


Hight, called, named ; intrusted ; directed ; pro- 


Hale, health, welfare. 


nounce worthy, hence determine, choose ; ap- 


Halfendeale, half part. 


pointed ; purports. 


//a//'^«-cye = half ordinary sight, i.e. one eye. 


Hight, ' on hight ' — aloud. 


Ba'Uidome,' by my halidom'' = hy my faith as a 


Hild, held. 


Christian. 


Hippodames, sea-horses. 


'flati (pi.), have. 


Hoary frost, hoarfrost. 


Hand, ' out of hand' = at once ; ' nigh hand ' = 


Hole, whole. 


near. 


Holpen (p.p.), helped. 
Hond, hand. 


Hayidsell, price, reward. 


Hansomly, neatly. 


Hong. hung. 


I/ap, to happen, fortune, lot. 


Hony crock, pot of honey. 


Happily, haply, by chance. 
Happy, successful. 


Hood, state, manner. 


Hooved, hovered, abode. 


Harborough, harbrough, shelter. 


//oj9e7esse, unexpected. 


Hard, heard. 


Hore, hoary. 


Hardiment, hardihood, boldness. 


Horrid, rough. 


Hardnesse, rudeness. 


Hospitage, hospitality. 


Hardyhed, hardihood. 


Hoxpitale, a place of rest. 


Hat'Tiesse, weapons. 


Hosfe, to entertain, lodge. 


Harroic, an exclamation of distress, a call for 


Ho.stlex.se, i nhospitable. 


help. 


HoHtry, lodging. 


Harten, to encourage, incite; hartned, encour- 


Hot, hole, was called ; mentioned. 


aged. 


Housling, sacramental. 


Hartlesse, timid. 


Hove, rise, tioat ; hover. 


Hafike, a wicker basket for fish. 


Hoare, time ; * good houre ' = good fortune. 


Uaubergh, hauberk, hauherque, hawberk, a 


Hotcres, devotional exercises. 


coat of mail. 


Hoye, vessel, ship. 


Hanght, high, august. 


Hiibiibfi, shouts, din. 


Hault, haughty. 


Hugger mugger, in secret, secretly. 


Haidst, embraced. 


Hiimhle.sxe, humility, humbleness. 


Hatuiten, to frequent. 


Hiirlylnirly, noise of battle. 


Hareour, hariour, deportment, behavior. 


Hurtle, to rush, dash, hurl, attack ; brandish ; 


HayU, to drag. 


crowd. 


Hazardize, danger. 


Hurtlesse, innocent. 


Hazardry, hazard, risk ; gaming. 


Husband, farmer. 


Headlesse-hood, heedlessehood, heedlessness. 


Hyacine, hyacinth. 


Heame, home. 


Hye, to hasten ; on hye, hastily. 


Heard, herd; a keeper of cattle. Heard = 


Hylding, base, vile. 


groom es, herdsmen. 


Hynde, a servant. 


Heare, hair. Hearie, hairy. 




Heast, hest, command, behest ; name ; office (of 


Idle, causeless. 


one who had takeyi toich). 


Idole, image. 


Hehen, ebony; of ebony wood. 


Hl-fa.ste, having an ill-look. Ill-hedded, dis- 


Hed stall, that part of the bridle which is put on 


turbed in the head. 


the horse's head. 


Imbrast, embraced. 


Heedinesse, heedfulness. 


Immeasured, unmeasured. 


Heedy, wary. 


Imp, child, scion, shoot. 


Heeling, heel. 


Imp, to engraft, insert. 


Hefte, raised ; threw. 


Impacable, unappeasible. 


Hell, to cover. 


Imperceable, not able to be pierced. 


Hehne, helmet. 


Implore, entreaty. 


Hem. them. 


Imply, to infold, entangle, envelop. 


Hend, to seize, grasp. 


Importable, intolerable. 


Henge, hinge. 


Importune, violent, savage ; full of trouble ; to 


Hent, took, seized. 


threaten ; to solicit. 


Her, their. 


Importunely, with importunity. 


Herbars, herbs. 


Imprei-i.te, to make an impression. 


Herneshaw, heron. 


Improrided, unprovided, unlooked for. 


Herry, hery, to praise, worship, honor. 


In, inne, dwelling, lodging. 


Her mil, rehearsal. 


hi, ' in . . . lyte ' = fall upon. 


Heme, ceremonial. 


Incontinent, forthwith, immediately. 


Hether, hither. 


Indeir, to put on. 


Hew, shape, form. 


Indifferent, impartial. Indifferently, impar- 


Heu\ hacking. 


tially. 


Hevdegnyen, dances. 


Indignaunoe, indignation. 


Hide, hastened. See Hye. 


Indigne, unworthy. 


Hidder (if not an error for AM^rs hither) = he- 


In dignify, to treat with indignity. 


deer ; animals Qf t^e male k^n^, 


Iiiferd. offered. 


UU, to hasten. 


Infect, to make fierce or hostile, hostile. 



568 



GLOSSARY. 



Influence, the power of the stars. 




Kon, know. Kond, knew. 


Informed, formed imperfectly. 




Kydst, knewest. 


litfme, infusion. 




Kynded, begotten. 


Ingate, entrance. 






Ingowe, ingot. 




Lackey, to follow as a servant. 


Inholder, inhabitant. 




Lad, led. 


lull/, inwardly ; entirely. 




Lade, to load. 


Inquest, quest, adventure. 




Laesie, lazy. 


Inquire, to call. 




Laid, attacked. 


Insolence, uncourteousness. 




Laire, plain. 


Insolent, rude. 




Lumping, shining. 


Inspyre, to breathe. 




Lanck loynes, slender waist. 


Insu''th = ensuHh, follows. 




Langurous, languid. 


Intend, to stretch out ; to denote, name 


; direct 


Lap, lappe, to fold, entangle. 


one's course. 




Larded, fattened. 


Intend iment, intention; knowledge. 




Lare, pasture. 


Intent, purpose. 




Large, bountiful. 


Interesse, interest. 




Latched, seized, caught. 


Interlace, to intermingle, interweave. 




Launce, balance. 


Intermedle, to intermix. 




Launch, to pierce. 


Intimate, to communicate. 




Laver, a basin. 


Intreat, to prevail upon. 




Lay, field, lea, plain. 


Intuse, contusion. 




Lay, cry. 


Invade, to come into. 




Lay, to throw ap. 


Invent, to find out. 




Lay, law. 


Invest, to put on. 




Layd, faint. 


Irkes, wearies. 




Laye, laity. 


IrJcesome, tired, weary. 




Laystall, a dunghill, a place for the deposit of 


Irrenoumied, inglorious. 




filth. 
Lazar, leper. 


Jacob's staffe, a pilgrim's staff. 




Lea, field. 


Jade, a horse ; a scolding woman. 




Leach, a physician. 


Jarre, quarrel, variance. 




Leachcraft, medical skill. 


Jasp, jasper. 




Leake, leaky. 


Jarel, a worthless wretch. 




Leany, lean. 


Jeopardie, jeopardy, danger. 




Leap, a basket. 


Jesses, strips of leather tied round the 


legs of 


Leare, lore, counsel. Leaves, lessons. 


hawks, with which they are held upon 


the fist. 


Leasing, lying, falsehood. 


Jollie, jolly, handsome, pretty, Hvely. 




Least, lest. 


Jolliment, jollitee, jollity, joyfulness, 


pretti- 


Leave, to raise. 


ness, liveliness. 




Ledden, dialect, speech. 


Jollyhead, jollity. 




Lee, river. 


Jott, speck, small piece. 




Leese, to loose. 


JournaU, diurnal. 




Lefte, lifted. 


Jovial, bright, sunny. 




Legierdemain, sleight of hand. 


Joy, to rejoice, be glad, enjoy. 




Leke, leaky. 
Leman, a lover. 


Joyaunce, joyfulness, merriment. 




Jo'ysaunce, jouisaunce, joyousness. 




Lend, to give, provide. 


Juncates, junkets. 




Lengd, longed. 
Lenger, longer. 


Kaies, keys. 




Lepped, did leap. 
Lere, to learn ; lore. 


Kearn, Jc'earne. See Kern. 




Keepe, heed, care, charge ; to take care. 


protect. 


Lesinges, lies. 


'heedie keepe' = wqXvM\A care; keepinge. 


Lessoned, instructed. 


guard. 




Lest, to Hsten. 


Keight, caught. 




Let, to hinder ; Hethe'' = away with ; hindrance. 


Kemd, combed. 




Level, to direct one's course. 


Ken, to know, try. Kend, kent, knew, perceived. 


Levin, lightning. Leein brond, thunder-bolt. 


known. Kenst, didst know. 




Letod, ignorant, wicked, foolish. Lewdly, fool- 


Kern, an Irish foot-soldier. 




ishly. 


Kerne, a farmer. 




Leirdnesse, wickedness. 


Kerve, to cut. 




Li /'bard, leopard. 


Kesar, emperor. 




Lich, like. 


Kest, cast. 




Lief, liefe, dear, beloved ; willing ; ' liefe or sory ' 
— willing or unwilling = Zi^'/' or loth: (comp.) 


Kestrell-kynd, base nature. 




Kind, nature; sex ; occupation. Kindly, 


natural. 


liefer ; (superl.) liefest, ' liefest liefe ' = dear- 


Kinred, kindred. 




est loved one. 


Kirtle, a coat fastened at the waist. 




Liege, lord, master — one to whom faith has been 


Knee, projection of rocks. 




pledged. Liegeman, a vassal, one who owes 


Knife, a sword, dagger. 




homage to a liege lord. 



GLOSSARY. 



569 



Z«/MZ,lidDg. full of life. 


Maisterdome, maistery, mastery, superiority. 


Lig, liggen, to lie. 


Maistring, superior, controlHng. 


Light, easy, ready ; to lighten ; befall. 


Make, to write poetry. 


Lightly, quickly. 


Make, companion, mate. 


Lignage, lynage, lineage. 


Malefice, evil deed. 


Like, to please. 


Mal'engine, ill intent, deceit, guile. 


Like as, as if. 


Malice (pret. malist), regarded with malice. 


Likely, similar. 


bore ill-will to. 


Likelyneisse, likeness. 


Maligne, to grudge. 


Lill, to put out the tongue. 


Mall, club, mallet ; to maul. 


Limbeck., retort. 


Maltalent, ill-will. 


Limehound, a bloodhound, limer. 


Mand, blocked up with men. 


Lin, to cease. 


Manie, many, company, multitude. 


Liat, to desire, like ; (impers.) please. Listful, 


Manner, kind of. 


attentive. 


Mantle, to rest with outspread wings. 


Lite, lyte, alight, befall. 


Mard. spoilt, injured, dishonored. 


Livelod, livelood, livelihood. 


Marge, margin,' bank. 


Lively, lifelike, living. 


Margent, margin. 


Livelyhed, livelyhead, livelihood; living origi- 


Marie, ground, soil. 


nal; motion of a hving being. 


Marishes, marshes. 


Liverey, dehvery. 


Martelled, hammered. 


Loathly, loathsome. 


Martyr, to afflict, torment. 


Loft, height. 


3Iartyrise, to devote as a martyr. 


Lome, clay, loam. 


Maske, to conceal one's self by means of a mask 


Lumpish, dull, slow. 


(as at a masquerade). 


Long, to belong. 


Masse, wealth ; material. 


Loord, lout. 


Massy, massive. 


Loos, fame. 


Mate, to stupefy, confound, amate. 


Loose, to solve. 


Matchlesse, not to be matched. 


Lope, leapt. 


Maugre. maulgre, in spite of, a curse on I un- 


Lopp, branch. 


willingly. 


Lore, learning, teaching, fashion ; speech. 


3favis, thrush. 


Lore, lorn, left, deserted ; lost sight of. 


Mayntenaunce, behavior. 


Loring, learning. 


Maysterdome, superiority. 


Lorrel, losell, lozell, a loose, idle fellow. 


Mazed, amazed, confounded. 


Lose, to loosen. 


Mazeful= amazeful, wonderful. 


Losen, to set loose. LosHe = loosed, dissolved. 


Mazer, a kind of hard wood (probably the maple) ; 


Lot, fate ; share. 


a bowl made of maple and richly ornamented. 


LothfiM. unwilling, unpleasant, loathsome. 


Me, 'he cast me down.' 


Loup, loop. 


Mealth, melteth. 


Lout, lo^ct, to bow, to do obeisance. 


Mean, middle, moderate, moderation; means; 


Lovely, loving; lovingly; lovely, of love. 


'by rneanes,'' because. 


Later, an opening in the roof to let out the 


Mean esse, humble birth. 


smoke. 


Meanly, moderately. 


Lug, a perch or rod of land. 


Meare, pure ; boundary. 


Luiuine, to illumine. 


Mear'd, divided, shared. 


Luskishnesse, sluggishness. 


Measure, moderation. 


Lust, pleasure, desire ; to desire, please. 


Medaewart, meadow-wort. 


Luster, a ghttering, sheen. 


Measured, sang. 


Lustlesse, feeble, listless. 


Measurelesse, boundless. 


Lusty, pleasant. 


Meddle, medle, to mix. 


Lustihede, histyhed, lusty-head, pleasure; pleas- 


Meed, reward. 


ure (of youth). 


Meere, absolute, entire. 


Lymiter,\ friar licensed to beg within a certain 


Meint, mingled. 


district. 


Melampode, black hellebore. 


Lynage, lineage. 


Mell, to intermeddle. 


Lyne, linen. 


Melting, meddling. 


Lyte, to alight, light, befall. 


Memories, services for the dead. 


Lythe, pliant. 


Memorize, to commemorate. 




Menage, to manage, guide (a horse) ; to wield 


Mace, sceptre. 


(arms) ; management. 


Macerate, to tear. 


Mendes, amends. 


Madding, foolish. 


Mene, means. 


Mage, magician. 


Ment, purposed, meant. 


Magnes-stone, the magnet. 


Ment, joined, united. 


Mail, mayl, male, armor. 


Merciable, merciful. 


Maine, mayne, force; ocean. Mainely, maynly. 


Mercie, mercy, thanks, favor; thank you. 


strongly, violently. 


Mercify, to pity. 


Mainsheat, mainsail. 


Merimake, meryment, merry-making, sport. 


Maintenaunce, condition. 


Mery, pleasant, cheerful. 



570 



GLOSSARY. 



MespHse, mesprise, contempt, insolence ; mis- 


Moorish, morish, marshy. 


take. 


Moralise, to cause to be moral. 


Meiv, to confine, secrete ; prison ; den. 


More, root, plant. 


Meyxt, mingled, united. 


Moi'ion, helmet. 


Jlickle, much, great. 


Morrow, morning. 


Middest, midst ; midmost. 


Mortall, deadly. 


Mieve, to move. 


Mortality, the estate of mortal man. 


Mincing, atfected. 


Most, greatest. 


Jfi)id, to call to mind. 


Mostwhat, generally. 


Mindlesse, unmindful. 


Mot, mote (pi. moien), may, must, might. 


Minime, a trifling song, but properly a musical 


Mott, measured. 


note. 


Mo light, might. 


Miniments, trifles, toys. 


Mould, to moulder; shape, form. 


Jfineon, a favorite. 


Mountenaunce, space, distance. 


Miiiisfit, diminished. 


Mowes, insulting grimaces, mouths. 


Mirke, dark, ' to niirke ' = very obscure. 


Moyity, half. 


Jlirtesome, dark. 


Moyle, to defile. 


Mis, to sin, err. 


Muchell, much, great. 


Misavised, ill-advised, misinformed. 


Muck, wealth. 


Misayined, ill-aimed. 


Mucky, sordid, vile. 


MiHcall, to abuse. 


Mumming, masking. 


Mischalenge, false challenge. 


Munijicence{mun\fi.ence), fortification, defence. 
Mured, walled, enclosed. 


Misconceipt, mistake. 


Miacounselled, ill-advised. 


Muse, to wonder ; wonderment. 


Miscreant, unbeliever. 


Musicall, music. 


Miscreated, ill-formed. 


Must, new wine. 


Miscreaunce, false faith, misbelief. 


Myndes, resolves. 


Misdeem, to deem amiss, misjudge. Misdeem- 


Mysterie, profession, trade. 


ing, misleading. Misdempt, misjudged, mis- 




weened. 


Namely, especially. 


Misdesert, crime. 


Napron, apron. 


Misdid, failed. 


Narre, nearer. 


Misdiet. over-eating. 


Nas, has not. 


Misdight, ill-dressed. 


Native, natural. 


Misdoitne, to misdo. 


Nathelesse, nathless, none the less, never the 


Misdoubting, fearing sadly. 


less. 


Miser, wretch. 


Nathemoe, nathemone, none the more, never 


Misfeign, to feign wrongfully. 


the more. 


Misfare, misfortune. 


Ne, nor. 


Misfaring, evil doing ; misfortune. 


Neat, cattle. 


Misgone, gone astray. 


Needments, necessaries. 


Misgovernaunce, misrule. 


Nempt, named. 

Nepheices, descendants, grandchildren. 


Misguyde, trespass. 


Mishappen, happen amiss. 


Net, nett, pure, clean. 


Mishapt, misshaped. 


Nethelesse, nevertheless. 


Misleeke, mislike, to dislike. 


Newell, a new thing. 


Misregard, misconstruction. 


Nigardise, niggardUness, miserliness. 


Missay, to say to no purpose, uselessly ; abuse, 


Nigh, to approach. 


speak ill of. 


Nighly, nearly. 


Misseem, to be unseemly, to misbecome. 


NilL will not ; will or nill, willing or unwilling ; 


Misseeniing, unseemly, wrong ; deceit. 


'■ nilled,' unwilling. 


Misshape, deformity. 


Nimblesse, nimbleness. 


Misshapen, deformed. 


Nip, to slander. 

Nohilesse, noblesse, nobleness, nobiUty. 


Mister, sort of, manner of. 


Misthought, mistake. 


Nominate, to name, aftirm. 


Mistooke, suspected. 


Nones, nonce, occasion. 


Mistrayne, to mislead. 


Norittire, norture, nurture, bringing up. 


Mistreth, signifies, matters. 


Norveyses, Norwegians. 


Misusage, abuse. 


Not, note, wot not, know not, knows not. (It 


Misxoeene, to think amiss. 


sometimes seems to stand for ne wo^e = could 


Mis'wende, to go wrong. 


not). 


Mizzle, to rain in little drops. 


Nothing, not at all. 


Mo, moe, more. 


Notify e, to proclaim. 
Nojight, not, of no value. 


Mochell, much. 


Mold, mole, spot. 


Nould, would not. 


Moldwarp, mole. 


Noule, the head, pate. 


Molt, melted. 


Nourice, nurse. 


Mome, blockhead. 


Noursle, nousle, to nurse, foster, rear. 


Moniment, mark, stamp ; record. 


Nousling, nestling, burrowing. 


Monoceros, sea-unicorn (_'! sword-fish). 


Novell, news. 



GLOSSARY. 



571 



Noyance, noyaunce, annoyance. 


Overthwart, opposite. 


JS/o'yd., noyed, annoyed. 


Overture, an open place. 


JSfoyes, noise. 


Overwent, overcome. 


Noyous, annojring, disagreeable, injurious. 


Oice, to own. See Ought. 


Koysome, hurtful. 


Oicch, a socket of gold to hold precious stones, a 


Nycely, carefully. 


jewel. 


A'ye, to draw near. 


Owre, ore. 


Nys, is not. 


0^czell, blackbird. 




Oystrige, ostrich. 


Oaker, ochre. 




Obliquid, oblique. 


Pace, pase, step, pass, passage. 


Obseqtiy, funeral rite. 


Packe, to pack off ; a burden. 


Odd en, advantage. 


Paddock, toad. 


Of, off; upon : by ; of all, above all. 


Paine, payne, labor, pains; punishment; '■did 


Offal, that which falls oflf. 


him pain e ' = took pains, exerted himself. 


Offend, to harm, hurt. 


Pa ire, to impair. 


Ofnew, recently. 


Paled, ' pinckt upon gold, and paled part per 


Of spring, origin. 


part,' = ' adorned with golden points or eyelets. 


On, one. 


and regularly intersected with stripes. In 


Onely, chief, especial. 


heraldry a shield is said to be parted per pale 


Ope, open. 


when it is longitudinally divided by a pale or 


Oppreat, taken captive. 


broad bar.' 


Or, ere, before. 


Paled, fenced off. 


Ordain, to set (the battle) in order. 


Pall, to subdue, moderate. 


Order, to arrange ; rank (of army). 


Pall, a cloak of rich material. 


Ordinaunce, arrangement; ordinance, artillery. 


Panachcea, panacea. 


Oricalche, a kind of brass. 


Pannikell, skull, crown. 


Origane, bastard marjoram. 


Paragon, paragone, companion, equal : rivalry. 


Other, left. 


Paramour, a lover. 


Otherwhere, elsewhere. 


Paravaunt, first, beforehand ; in front. 


Otherwhileff, sometimes. 


Parbreake, vomit. 


Ought, owned ; owed. 


Pardale, panther. 


Outharre, to arrest. 


Parentage, parent. 


Outgo, to surpass. 


Parget, plaster. 


Outhyred, let out for hire. 


Part, party ; depart. 


Outlaunced, outlaunched. 


Partake, to share. 


Out-learn, to learn from. 


Parture, departure. 


Outrage, violence, outburst. 


Pas, passe {passing, surpassing), to surpass. 


Outstrained, outstretched. 


exceed. 


Outweave, wear out ; pass, spend. 


Passion, suffering. Passioned, affected with 


Outwell, to gush or well out ; (pret.) outwelde. 


feeling, be grieved. Passionate, to express 


Outwent, surpassed. 


feeUngly. 


Outicin, to get out. 


Patchocke, clown. 


Outwind (= outwin), to get out. 


Patronage, defence. Patronesse, a female de- 


Ouiwrest, wrest out, discover. 


fender. 


Outwrought, completed, passed. 


Paunce, pawnee, pansy. 


Overall, everywhere ; all over. 


Pavone, peacock. 


Overbore, overthrew. 


Payne, to take pains, exert. 


Overcame, overspread. 


Payse, to poise, balance. 


Overcaught, overtook. 


Pealing, appealing. 


Overcraic, to crow over, insult. 


Pea re, pere, equal. 


Overdight, decked over, covered over, over- 


Peasant knight, base knight. 


spread. 


Peaze, blow. 


Overgo, to overpower, surpass. 


Peece, fabric, fortified place, as a castle, ship, 


Overgive, to give over. 


&c. 


Overgrasi, grown over with grass. 


Pseeed, imperfect. 


Overhaile, to draw over. 


Peere-tree, pear tree. 


Overhent, overtook ; overtaken. 


Peinct, to paint. 


Overkest, overcast. 


Peise, peize, to poise, weigh. 


Overlade, to overwhelm. 


Pen, to confine, restrain. 


Overplast, overhanging. 


Pendants, ornaments (of wood or stone) hang. 


Over-raught, overtook. 


ing down from a Gothic roof. 


Over-red, read over. 


Penne, feather. 


Overpasse, pass over, alleviate. 


Penurie, want of food. 


Overren, to over-run, oppress. 


Percen, to pierce. 


Oversee, to overlook. 


Perdu, perdy, pardieu, truly. 


Oversight, escape (through having overlooked a 


Peregall, equal. 


danger). 


Perforce, of necessity. 


Orersivim, to swim over. 


Perke, pert, brisk. 


Overbore, overthrow. 


Perlous, perilous. 



57^ 



GLOSSARY. 



Persant, persaunt, piei'cing. 

Perseline, parsley. 

Persant, piercing. 

Personage, personal appearance. 

Per sue, a track. 

Pert, open, plain. 

Perveyaunce, provision. See Purveyaunce. 

Petro'nell, a kind of blunderbuss. 

Pesatint. a peasant. 

Pheere =fere, companion. 

Physnomy, countenance. 

Pictural, a picture. 

PighU fixed, placed, fastened. 

Pill, to spoil, plunder. 

Pine, pyne, sorrow, grief; to waste away through 
torment; 'pined ghost,'' a spirit wasted away 
(through torment) ; done to pine, caused to 
die. 

Pinnoed, pinioned. 

Pitteous, compassionate, tender-hearted. 

Place, 'of place,' of rank. 

Plaine, plnyne, to complain. 

Phtintife, plaintive. 

P/atane. plane tree. 

Pleasaunce, pleasauns, pleasure, delight; ob- 
jects affording pleasure. 

Pled, pleaded. 

Plesh, a shallow pool, plash. 

Plight (p. p. plight), weave, plait, fold ; a plait, 
fold ; condition. 

Ply, to move. 

Poise, poyse. weight, force. 

Point, poynt, to appoint; a whit, ' to poynt ' = 
exactly. 

Poke, a pouch. 

Poll, to plunder. 

Pollicie, statecraft. 

Porcspisces, porpoises. 

Port, portance, portaunce, demeanor, bearing. 

Portesse, breviary. 

Possesse, to accomplish. 

Potshares = potshards, fragments of broken 
vessels. 

Ponke, a goblin called Puck or Robin Goodfellow. 

Pouldred, powdered, spotted ; reduced to pow- 
der. 

Pounce, claws, talons. 

Pound, weight, balance, ' neio in pound' = 
anew in the balance. 

Pourtrahed, drawn. 

Pourtraict, pourtraiture, portrait, image. 

Pousse, pease. 

Poynant, piercing, sharp. 

Poyse, weight, force. 

Practic, practicke, treacherous, deceitful ; skil- 
ful. 

Prancke, to trim, deck, adorn, adjust ; a ma- 
licious trick. 

Praunce, to prance. 

Pray, to be the prey of; to make a prey of. 

Preace, precise, to press ; a press, crowd. 

Preside, to prove. 

Prefard, preferred. 

Pre/ixt. fixed beforehand. 

Prejndize, foi-esight. 

Prepense, to consider. 

Presage, to tell or point out, foresee. 

Presence, reception-room. 

President, precedent. 

Prest ready, prepared. 



Pretend, to attempt ; to stretch out (or over), 
offer. 

Prevent, anticipate. 

Price, to pay the price of, atone for ; value. 

PHck, to ride hard, to spur on quickly ; point, 
centre of target. 

Prickett, a buck. 

Prief, priefe, proof, trial, experiment. 

Prieve, to prove. 

Prime, pryme, spring time ; morning. 

Primitias, first fruits. 

Primrose, chief rose. 

Principle, beginning. 

Prise, adventure. 

Prive, privy, secret. Privitee, privitie, pri- 
vate life ; intimate relation. 

Procure, to arrange, entreat. 

Prodigious, ominous. 

Professe, to present the appearance of. 

Proine, proyyie, to prune or trim the feathers. 

Project, to throw forward. 

Prolling, prowling. 

Prolong, to postpone. 

Prone, subjected. 

Proper, own, peculiar ; proper good, own prop- 
erty. 

Protense, a stretching out. 

Prove, to experience, try, feel. 

Provokement, a provoking. 

Proxc, brave ; (superl.) Prowest. Proives, 
prowess. 

Prune. See Proine. 

Pryse, to pay for. See Price. 

Puddle, a small stream. 

Puissant, powerful. 

Pum'ie, pumy stones, pumice stones. 

Purchase, to obtain, to get, win (honestly or 
otherwise). 

Purchas, purchase, property, booty, robbery. 

Purfled, embroidered on the edge. 

Purport, disguise. 

Purpos, purpose, conversation, discourse; '^ 
purpose,' to the purpose; to speak as ' ptir' 
pose direr sly ' = to speak of various things. 

Pursuivant, a pursuer. 

Purray, to provide. 

Purreyaunce, provision, management; function. 

Puttocke, a kite. 

Pyne, pain (of hunger) ; torment. 

Pyoning, diggings, work of pioneers. 

Quaile, to cast down, defeat, conquer; perish. 

Quaint, nice, fastidious. 

Qualify, to ease, soothe. 

Quarle. quarrel, a square-headed arrow. 

Quarrie, quarry, prey, game. 

Quart, quarter. 

Quayd, qnailed. quelled, subdued. 

Queane, a worthless woman. 

Queint, quaint; ' queint elect,' oddly chosen. 

Queint, quenched. 

Quell, to kill, to subdue ; to perish ; to abate ; to 

disconcert, frighten. 
Quern e, to please. 
Quest, expedition, pursuit. 
Quich, Quincke, to stir, move. 
Quick, alive ; ' some quicke ' = something alive. 
Quietage, quietness. 
Quight, to set free ; to requite. 
Quilted, padded. 



GLOSSARY. 



573 



Quip, a jeer, taunt ; to sneer at, taunt. 

Quire, company. 

Quirk, a quip. 

Quit, quite, quyte, to set free, to requite, repay ; 

to return (a salute); freed, removed; 'quite 

dame,'' to release. 
Quook.e, quaked. 

Rahlement, a rabble, troop. 

Race, to raze ; to cut ; raced, erased. 

Rad, rode. 

Rad, perceived. See Read. 

Raft, bereft. 

Ragged, rugged. 

Raile, rayle, to flow, pour down. 

Rain, ra/yne, to reign ; kingdom. 

Rakehell, loose, worthless. 

Ramp, tear, attack ; leap. 

Ranck, fiercely ; vigorous growing. 

Randon, random. 

Ranckorous, sharp. 

Ranke, fiercely. 

Rape, rapine. 

Rascal, rankaU, low, base, worthless. 

Rase (pret. rast), to erase. 

Rash, to tear violently, hack. Rashly, hastily, 

suddenly. Rash, quick. 
Rate, to scold. 

Ra^e, allowance ; order, state. 
Rath, early, soon. Rather, early-born. 
Rath, mound. 

Raught, reached, extended, took. 
Raunch, to wrench. 
Rarin, ravine, plunder, prey. 
Ravishment, ecstasy. 
Ray, to defile, soil. 
Ray, array. 

Rayle, to'flow. See Raile. 
Rayle, abuse. 
Rayne, kingdom. 
Rayons, rays, beams. 

Read, reede, advice ; motto; proverb; prophecy. 
Read, reed (pret. rad, red), to know, declare, 

explain or advise, discover, perceive, suppose ; 

regard. 
Reaedifye, to rebuild. 
Reallie, to reform. 
Reames, realms. 
Reare, to raise, take up or away, steal ; excite ; 

to rouse. 
Reason, x)roportion. 
Reave (pret. reft, raft), to bereave, take away 

(forcibly). 
Rebuke, conduct deserving of reproof, rudeness. 
Rehutte, to cause to recoil. 
RecMesse, reckless. 
Reclayme, to call back. 
Recorde, to remember, to call to mind. 
Recoure, recower, recure, to recover. 
Recourse, to recur, return; 'had recourse'' = 

did recur ; return. 
Recoyle, to retire, retreat. 
Recuile, recule, to recoil. 
Red, redd, declared, described, perceived, saw. 

See Read. 
Redisbourse, to repay. 
Redoubted, doughty. 
Redound, to overflow, flow, be redundant. 
Redress, to reunite, remake ; to rest. 
Reed, to deem. Reede, read, to advise. 



Reek, to smoke. 

Reele, to roll. 

Refection, refreshment. 

Reft, bereft, taken violently away. See Reave. 

Regalitie, rights of royalty. 

Regarde, a subject denianding consideration or 
attention ; value. 

Regiment, government, command. 

Reke, to care, reck. 

Relate, to bring back. 

Release, to break loose from ; to give up. 

Relent, to give way, to slacken, relax, soften. 

Relide, to ally, join. 

Relive, to recover, revive, live again. 

Remeasure, to retrace. 

Remedilesse, without hope of rescue. 

Remercy, to thank. 

Remorse, pity. 

Rencounter, to encounter, meet in battle. 

Renfierced {renfierst), made more fierce or = 
renforst— reinforced. 

Renforst, reinforced, enforced, made fresh effort. 

Renne, to run. 

Renverse, to reverse, overturn. 

Repent, repentance ; to grieve. 

Repining, a failing (of courage). 

Replevie, a law term signifying to take posess- 
sion of goods claimed, giving security at the 
same time to submit the question of property 
to a legal tribunal within a given time. 

Report, to carry off. 

Reprief, reproof, shame. 

Repriie, to deprive of, take away. 

Reprire, reprieve. 

Reprize, to retake. 

Requere, to require, demand. 

Request, demand. 

Requit, requited, returned. 

Reseize. to reinstate, to be repossessed of. 

Resemble, to compare. 

Resemhlaunce, look, regard. 

Resiant, resident. 

Respect, care, caution. 

Respondence, correspondence, reply (in music). 

Respyre, to breathe again. 

Restlesse, resistless. 

Restore, restitution. 

Resty, restive. 

Retourn, to turn (the eyes) back. 

Retraite, picture, portrait, 

Retrate, a retreat. 

Retyre, retirement. 

Revel, a feast. 

Revengement, revenge. 

Reverse, to return, to cause to return. 

Revest, to reclothe. 

Revilement, a reviling, abuse. 

Revoke, to recall, withdraw. 

Revolt, to roll back. 

Rew, rue, to pity, to be sorry for, to lament 
over, repent. 

Reio, row ; ' in rew,'' in order. 

Ribauld, rybauld, a loose, impure person, 
ribald. 

Richesse, riches. 

Ridling, skill, skill in explaining riddles. 

Rife, ryfe. abundant, abundantly, much, fre- 
quent. Rifelye, abundantly. 

Rift, split, broken ; gap, fissure, fragment. 

Rigor, force. Rigoi^ous, violent. 



574 



GLOSSARY. 



Rine, rind. 




Scarabee, a beetle. 


Rinq, to encircle. 




Scarmoges, skirmishes. 


Riuiise, riotise, riot, extravagance. 




Scath, hurt, harm, damage, ruin. 


Rivage, bank. 




Scatter, to let drop. 


Rive, to split, tear. 




Scatterling, a vagrant. 


Rize, to come to. 




Scerne, to discern. 


RocJce, distaff. 




Schuchin, scutchin, escutcheon, shield, device on 


Rorfe, raid, incursion. 




a shield. 


Rode, roadstead, anchorage for ships. 




Scolopendra, a fish resembling a centipede. 


Ronr/, rang. 




Scope, aim ; dimension ; 'aymed scope,' a mark 


Rontes, young bullocks. 




aimed at. 


Roode, a cross, crucifix. 




Scoriae, to exchange. 


RoKiere, a rose tree. 




Scorse, to chase. 


Rosmarine, a sea-monster that was supposed to 


Scould, scowled. 


feed on the dew on the tops of the sea rocks ; 


Scriene, serine, scryne, skreene, a cabinet for 


rosemary. 




papers, a writing desk ; entrance of a hall. 


Rote, a lyi-e, harp. 




Scrike, shriek. 


RouUh, rolls, records, 




Scruze, to squeeze, crush. 


Roundle, a roundelay, a kind of song. 




Scryde, descried. 


Rout, crowd, troop. 




Sdeigne, to disdain. 


Roiie, to shoot (with a sort of arrow 


called a 


Sea-Hhouldring, having shoulders that displace 


rover). 




the sea. 


Rowel, the ring of a bit — any small 


movable 


Sear, to burn ; burning. 


ring. 




Sease, to fasten on, seize. 


Roxome, place, space. 




See, seat. 


Roionded, whispered. 




Seelde, seldom, rare. 


Rowndell, a round bubble (of foam). 




Seely, simple, innocent. 


Roioze, rouze. to shake up. 




Seem, ' nought seemeth ' = it is not seemly. 


Royne, to mutter. 




Seeming, apparently. 


Ruhin, Rubine, the ruby. 




Seemlesse, unseemly. 


Ruddock, redbreast. 




Seemly, in a seemly manner; comely; appar- 


Rue, to grieve. 




ent. 


Ruffed, ruffled. Ruffln, disordered. 


Ruffing, 


Seemhjhed, a seemly appearance. 


ruffling. 




Seene, skilled, experienced. 


Ruinate, to ruin ; ruined. 




Seew. to pursue. 


Ruing, pitying. 




Seised, taken possession of. 


Rulesse, lawless. 




Seisin, possession. 


Ruth, pity. Ruthfull, piteous. 




Selcouth, seldom known, rare, strange. 


Rutty, rooty. 




Sell, seat, saddle. 


Ri/fe, frequent, common. 




Semblaunce, semhlatinf. semhlant, likeness, ap- 


Ryve, to pierce. 




pearance, phantom ; cheer, entertainment. 
Sence, feeling. 


Sacrament, oath of purgation taken by an ac- 


Seneschall, governor, steward. 


cused party. 




Sens, since. 


Sacred, accursed. 




Sense full, sensible. 


Sad, firm, heavy, grave. 




Seiit, scent, perception. 


Saine, sayne, to say (pi. say). 




Sere, sear. 


Sake, cause. 




Serve, to bring to bear upon. 


Safe, a wicker net (made of sallows or willows). 


Set hy, to esteem. 


Salew. to salute. 




Severall, diverse. 


Saliaunce, onslaught. 




Sen\ to follow ; to solicit. 


Salied, leapt, sallied. 




Seyne, to say. See Sayne. 


Sa/'ows, willows. 




Shade, to shadow, represent. 


Salvage, savage, Avild. 




Shallop, sloop. 


Salue, to salute. 




Shame, to feel shame, to be ashamed. 


Salve, to heal, save, remedy. 




Shamefast, modest. 


Salving, salvation, restoration. 




Shamefastnesse, modesty. 


Sam, together. 




Shard, division, boundary ; cut. 


Samite, silk stuff. 




Share, portion, piece ; to cut. 


Sample, example. 




Shayres, shires. 


Sanguine, blood-color. 




Sheare, to cut, divide. 


Sardonian, sardonic. 




Sheare, shere, bright, clear. 


Saufgard, guard, defence. Savegard 


, to pro- 


Sheares, wings. 


tect. 




Shed, to spill life blood, to kill. 


Saulge, sage. 




Sheene, shene, bright, shining, clear. 


Saw, word, saying, proverb, sentence. 




Shmd (pret. shent), to disgrace, defile, abuse, 


Say, a thin stuff (for cloaks). 




reproach, shame. 


Say, assay, proof. 




Shere, to cleave, divide. 


Scald, scabby. 




Shere, bright, clear. 


Scaml., climbed. 




Shew, mark, track. 



i 



GLOSSARY. 



575 



Shldder (generally explained as aJie), but if not 
a corruption of thider (thither) must mean 
she-deer, she animals. 

Shield, 'God shield,' God forbid. 

Shine, shyne, a bright light ; bright. 

Shiver, to quiver. 

Shole, shallow. 

Shoniie, to shun. 

Shope, shaped, framed. 

Shot, advanced (in years). 

Sltriche-owle, shriek owl. 

Shriech, shriek. 

Shriece, to question (shrive). 

Shrifts, confessions. 

Sh?-i(/ht, a shriek ; to shriek. 

Shrike, shriek. 

Shrill, to give out a ringing, shrill sound ; a shrill 
sound. 

Shrilling, shrill. 

Shriving, confession. 

Shroicde, to take shelter, 

Sih, sibhe, akin, related. 

Sieh, such. 

Sicker, sure. 

Sickernesse, security, safety. 

Siege, seat. 

Sield, cieled. 

Sient, scion. 

Sight, sighed. 

Sign, watchword ; representation, picture. 

Sike, such. 

Silly, simple, innocent. 

Siinplesxe, simplicity. 

Sin, since. 

Singulis, sighs. 

Sinke, hoard, deposit. 

Sited, placed, situated. 

Sith, siihe, sythe, time, since. 

Sithens, since, since that time. 

Sithes, times. 

Sits, is becoming. 

Skean, a dagger. 

Skill, to signify, to be a matter of importance. 

Skij)pet, a little boat. 

Slacke, slow. 

Slake, to slack. 

Slaver, slobber. 

Slight, sleight, device, trick. 

Slipper, slippery. 

Slomhry, sleepy. 

Slag, to'live idle. 

Sly, subtle, clever. 

Sinirke, neat, trim. 

Smit, smote; smitten. 

Smot, smote ; smitten. 

Smouldry, smouldring, suflfocating. 

Snag, a knot. 

Snaggy, knotted, covered with knots. 

Snags, knots. 

Snaky-wreathed = v?) snake-ywreathed, snake- 
entwined. 

Snar, to snarl. 

Snarled, twisted. 

Snehhe, to reprove, snub. 

Sn ib, to reprove. 

Snub, knob (of a club). 

Soare-falcon, a falcon of the first year. 

Sold, pay, remuneration. 

Solein, sad. 

Solemnize, a solemn rite. 



Somedele, somewhat. 

Song, sang. 

Sonned, sunned, e:^posed to the sun. 

Sonneshine, sunshiny. 

Soote, sweetly. 

Sooth, true, truth ; truly. 

Soothe, augury. 

Soothly, soothlich, truly, indeed. 

Soothsay, prediction, omen. 

Sops in wine, a kind of flower like a carnation. 

Sort, company. 

Sort, 'in sort,' inasmuch as. 

Souce, souse, sowse, to swoop on, as a bird does 

upon his prey, strike, attack ; the swoop (of a 

hawk); blow. 
Souxe, to immerse. 

Southsay, soothsay. Southsayer, soothsayer. 
Sovenaunce, remembrance. 
Sownd, to wield. Sownd = swound, swoon. 
Sowne, a sound. 
Sowst, struck. 
Soyle, prey. 
Space, to walk, roam. 
Spalles, the shoulders. 
Spangs, spangles. 

Sparckle forth, to cause to sparkle. 
Spare, sparing, niggardliness ; to save. 
Sparke ( ? an error for sparthe), a battle-axe. 
Sparre, bolt, bar. 
Speculation, sight. 
Speed, ' evill speed,'' misfortune. 
Spell, charm. 
Sperre, to bolt, shut. 
Sperse, to disperse, scatter. 
Spies, spyes, keen glances, eyes. 
Spight, displeasure, grudge. 
Spill, to ravage, destroy. 
Spilt, pieced, inlaid. 
Spired forth, produced. 
Spoil, to ravage, carry off. 
Sponned, flowed out quickly. 
Spot, to blame. 

Spoused, espoused, betrothed. 
Sprad, spread. 
Spray, branch. 

Spred, spredden, to spread over, to cover. 
Sprent, sprinkled. 
Spright, spirit. 
Spring, a springal, youth. 
Springal, a youth, stripling. 
Spring-headed, having heads that spring afresh. 
Sprang, sprang. 
Spume, to spur. 
Spy a II, spy. 
Spyre, to shoot forth. 
Squib, a paltry trifling fellow. 
Squire, a square, a rule, a carpenter's measure. 
Stadle, a staff", prop. 
Staine. to disparage. 
Stale, decoy, bait. 
Stalk, a stride. 
StaVd, stolen, taken, 
Stanck, weary. 
Stare, to shine. 

Stared, '■up stared,'' stood up stiflly. 
Stark, strong, stiff. 
Star-read, knowledge of the stars. 
Startuppe, a wooden shoe. (Glosse.) 
State, stately. 
Slay, to hold, hold up, support. 



576 



GLOSSARY. 



Stayd, caused to stay. 


Sufflsed, satisfied. 


Stayed, constant. 


Sugred, sweet. 


Stayne, to dim, deface. 


Supple, to make supple. 


Stayre, a step. 


Suppress, to overcome, keep down. 


Stead, sted, stedd, station, place, situation. 


Surbate, to batter. 


Stead, to help, avail, bestead. 


Surbet, bruised, wearied. 


Steale, stale, handle. 


Surcease, to leave oflf, utterly to cease. 


Steaiie, a stone (vessel). 


Surcharge, to attack with renewed vigor. 


Steare, a steer. 


Surcharged, heavily laden. 


Sted, place, condition ; steed, horse. See Stead. 


Surplusage, excess. 


Steedy, steady. 


Surprise, to seize suddenly. 


Steely = steelen, of steel. 


Surmount, to surpass. 


Steeined, esteemed. 


Surquedry, pride, insolence, presumption. 


Steep, to bathe, stain. 


Surmew, survew, to overlook, survey. 


Stelths, thefts. 


Suspect, suspicion. 


Sterne, to exhale. 


Swain, stcayn, a laborer, youth, person. 


Stemme, to rush against. 


Swart, black. 


Stent, to cease, stop. 


Swarve, to swerve, retreat. 


Sterve, to die ; to starve. 


Swat, did sweat. 


Steven, voice, cry. 


Sway, to swing, brandish, wield (arms) ; force ; a 


Stew, a hot steaming place. 


rapid motion. 


Stie, to ascend. 


Sweard, sword. 


Still, to drop, flow, trickle. 


Sweath-ban ds, swaddling-bands. 


Stint, to stop, cease ; a stop, limit. 


Sivelt, fainted, swooned; burnt; (? swelled)- 


Stir, styre, to stir, move, incite, provoke ; to 


Swinck, labor, toil. 


direct, steer. 


Swinge, to singe. 


Stole, a long robe. 


Swote, sweetly. See Soote. 


Stomachous, angry. 


Swou7id, swoon. 


Stomacke, temper. 


Sybbe, akin, related. ^ 


Stand, attach. 


Syker, truly. 


Stonied, astonished, alarmed. 


Syrlye. surly. 


Stound, stownd, stond, a moment of time ; (a 


• 


time of) trouble, peril, alarm, assault ; effort ; 


Table, a picture.' 


a stunning influence, a blow, amazement ; 


Tabrere, one playing on a tabor. 


stunned. 


Tackle (pi. tackles), rigging. 


Stound, astonishment, amazement. 


Tadvaunce. to advance. 


Stoup, to swoop. ^., 


Taking, sickness. 


Stout, stubborn, bold. 


Talaunts, talons. 


Stou/r-e, stowre, tumult, disturbance, battle, pas- 


Tamburins, small drums. 


sion, fit ; paroxysm ; danger, peril. 


Tane, taken. 


Straine, race, lineage. 


Tapets, tapestry, figured work. 


Straine, strayne, to stretch out. 


Tare, tore. 


Struint. grasp, strain. 


Targe, target. 


Strake, strook ; a streak. 


Tarras, terrace. 


Straunge, foreign, borrowed. 


Tassal gent, the tiersel, or male gosshawk. 


Strayne, to wield ; to embody in strains. 


Tasstcage, to assuage. 


Strayt, a street. 


Tau'drie lace, a lace (girdle) bought at the fair 


Streight, narrow, strait, strict ; close. 


of St. Audrey or St. Ethelred. 


Streightly, straitly, closely. 


Teade, a torch. 


Streightnesse, straitness. 


Teene {tene), grief, sorrow, pain ; affliction. See 


Strene, strain, race. 


Tine. 


Stresse, distress. 


Teene (? leene, lend, give), to bestow. 


Strich, the screech-owl. 


Tell, to count. Teld, told. 


Stri/ful, stryfull, contentious. 


Temed, yoked in a team. 


Stroken, struck. 


Temewise, like a team. 


Strand, strand. 


Temper, to govern, control. 


Strong, strung. 


Tempring, controlling, governing. 


Straw, to spread out, display. 


Tend, to wait on. 


Stub, stock of a tree. 


Tender, to tend, attend to. 


Stud, xtudde, trunk, stock ; shrub, bush. 


Terebinth, the turpentine tree. 


Sty, to ascend, mount. 


Termelesse, unlimited. 


Subject, lying beneath. 


Thee, to prosper, thrive. 


Submisse, submissive. 


Theeveryes, thefts. 


Subtile, fine-spun. 


Th element, the elements. 


Subverst, subverted. 


Thelf, the elf. 


Succeed, to approach. 


Then, than. 


Suceesse, succession. 


Thereto, besides. 


Sue, solicit. See Sew. 


Thetch. thatch. 


Snferaunce, patience, endurance. 


Thether, thither. 


Suffisaimce, abundance. 


Thewed, behaved, mannered. 



GLOSSARY. 



577 



Thewen, qualities, manners. 


Treague, truce. 


Thick, a thicket. 


Treat, to discourse, hold parley with. 


Thilk, thilke, that same, this. 


Treen, of trees. 


Tho, thoe, then. Tho, the, pi. those. 


Trenchand, trenchant, cutting. 


Thone, the one, the first. 


Trentals, services of 30 masses, which were usu- 


Thorough, through. 


ally celebrated upon as many diff'erent days, 


Throughly, thoroughly. 


for the dead. 


Thother, that other, the other. 


TtHe, to experience ; prove, a daw trie= prove a 


Thou!<= thou es, thou art. 


jackdaw or fool. 


Thrall, to take captive, enslave ; bring into sub- 


Trild, flowed. 


jection, constrain ; a slave ; enslaved. 


Trim, neat, well-formed ; pleasing. 


Threat, to threaten, Threatfull, threatening. 


Trinall, threefold. 


Thresher, a flail. 


TripUcity, quality of being threefold. 


Threttie, thirty. 


Troad, trode, path, footstep. 


Thrid, a thread. 


Troncheon, a headless spear. 


Thrill, to pierce. Thrillant, piercing. 


Troth, truth. 


Thrist, to thirst ; thirst. 


Troublous, restless. 


Thrisfy, thirsty. 


Troic, to believe. 


Throw, time, while. 


Truncked, truncated, having the head cut oflF. 


Throw, throe, pang ; thrust, attack. 


Trusse, to pack up ; carry off" ; a bundle. 


Thrust, to thirst ; thirst. 


Tryde, proved, essayed. 


Thwart, athwart. 


Trye, tried, purified. 


Tickle, uncertain, insecure. 


Turmoild, troubled. 


Tide, tvd.e, time, season, opportunity. 


Turney, an encounter. 


Tight, tied. 


Turribant, turban. 


Timbered, massive (like timbers). 


Tway, twain, two. 


Timelesse, untimely. 


Twight, to twit. 


Timely, seasonable, beautiful. 


Twyfold, twofold. 


Tinct, colored. 


Tynde, kindled. 


Tine, affliction. 


Tytie, grief, pain. See Tine, Teen. 


Tine, to light, kindle, inflame. 


Tyne, to come to grief, to perish. 


Tine or teen, sorrow, grief, pain. 


Tyranne, a tyrant. 


Tire, rank, train. 


Tyrannesse, a female tyrant. 
Tyranning, acting like a tyrant. 
Tyre, to dress, attire. 


Tire, tyre, attire, dress. 


Titmose, hedge-sparrow. 


To = for (as in to frend). 


Tyreling, ? weary. 


Todde, a thick bush. 




Tqfore, before. 


Ugly, horrible. 


Too, very. 


Umbriere, the visor of a helmet. 


Toole, weapon. 


Unacquainted, unusual, strange. 


Tooting, looking about. 


Unbid, without a prayer. 


Top, head. 


Unblest, unwounded. 


Tor en heare, torn hair. 


Unbrace, to unfasten. 


To-rent, rent asunder. 


Uncivile, wild, uncivilized. 


Tort, wrong, injury. 


Uncouth, unusual, strange. 


Tortious, injurious, wrongful. 


Unci-udded, uncurdled. 


Tossen, to brandish, toss. 


Undefide, unchallenged. 


Tottie, totty, tottering, unsteady. 


Underfong, to surprise, circumvent. 


To-torne, torn to pieces. 


Underhand, secretly. 


Tourney, to tilt, joust. 


Underlay, to diminish. 


Touze, to tease, worry. 


Undersay, to aflirm in contradiction to any one. 


Totcard, favorable ; approaching, near at hand. 


Undersong, burden (of a song). 


To-worne, worn out. 


Understand, to learn the cause of (or perhaps to 


Toy, pastime, sport ; to play. 


take in hand for purpose of arbitration). 


Toyle, net. 


Undertake, to perceive, hear. 


Tr^--", to walk, track, tract. 


Undertime, time of the mid-day meal. 


Tract, trace; to trace. 


Undight, to undress, takeoff ornaments, unloose. 


Trade, footstep, tread ; occupation ; conduct. 


Uneasy, disturbed. 


Traduction, transfer. 


Uneath, unneath, unneathes, uneth, scarcely, 


Traine, trayne, to drag along, trail, to allure ; 


with difl[iculty, uneasily. 


wile, deceit, snare, trap ; track ; assembly. 


Unespyde, unseen. 


Tramell, a net for the hair, tresses. 


Unfilde, unpolished. 


Transfard, transformed. 


Ungentle, uncourteous. 


Traiismew, to transmute, transform. 


Ungentlenesse, base conduct. 


Transmoi-'e, to transi)Ose. 


Unguilty, not conscious of guilt. 


Trap, to adorn (with trappings). 


Unhable. incapable. 


Traveiled, toh -d. 


Unh'ippit p<i-'u. ■; , uccessful labors (because 


Tra^vell, toil. 


there waa no heii- lo reap the benefit of their 


Trayled, in+«rw<- .n\ adorned. 


Unhappy, unfortunate. 


Treachour, irenc/i0iour, a traitor. 



578 



GLOSSARY. 



Unhastie, slow. 

Unheale, unhele, to expose, uncover. 
Unheedy, unwary. Unheedily, unheedingly. 
Unherftt, ' took from the herse or temporary 

monument where the knights' arms were hung"' 
Unkempt, uncombed, rude. 
Unkend, unkent, unknown. 
Unkind, unnatural. 
Unkindly, unnatural. 
Unlast, unlaced. 
Unlich, unlike. 
Unlike, not likely, 
Unmannurd, not cultivated. 
Unmard, uninjured. 
Unmeet, unfit. 
Unnethes, scarcely. 
Unnohle, ignoble. 
Unpitrvaide of, unprovided with. 
Unred, untold. 

r^nredrest, without redress, unrescued. 
Unreprored, blameless. 
Ui^restftUnes.se, uneasiness. 
Unshed, unparted. 
Unsoofe, unsweet. 
Unspidie, unseen. 
Untitayd, unsteady. 
UnihriUv, wicked. 
Unthriftyhead, unthrift, 
Untill, unio. 

Untimely, linfortunately. 
Untrust, unbound. 
Unvalued, invaluable. 
Unitary, unwary, unexpected, 
Unware, unwaren, unawares, unexpectedly ; 

unknown. 
Umceeting, not knowing, unconscious. 
Unweldy, unwieldy. 
Utiwist, unknown. 
Umcont, unaccustomed. 
Umcorthy, undeserved 
Unvireaked, unrevenged. 
Uphraide, upbraiding, reproach, abuse, 
Upbraftt, burst open. 
Upbray, to upbraid ; an uporaiding, 
Uphild, upheld. 
Uphoorded, uphoarded. 
Upreare, to raise up. 
Upryst, uprisen. 
Upstare. to stand up erect. 
Up-i^t<irt, start up. 
Upstay, to support, 
Uptyde, tied up. 
Upwound, knotted. 
Urchin, hedgehog. 
Umge, behavior. 
Usaunce, usage. 
Use, to [iractise; habits. 
Utmost, uttermost, outmost, last. 
Utter, to put out or torth ; outer. 

Vude, to go ; to vanish. 

Vaile, to lay down. 

Vaine, frail. 

Vaine, the poetic veik>. 

Vainesse, vanity. 

Valeic, ralue, valor, courage, 

Valiaunce, valor. 

Variable, various. 

Vanncing, advancing, 

Vaunty tQ display. 



Vauntage, advantage, opportunity. 

]"aut, a vault. 

Vaitte, to leap. 

Vauted, vaulted. 

Vawt, a vault. 

Vele, a veil. 

Vellanage, rillinage, slavery. 

Vellet, velvet. 

Venery, hunting. 

Vengeable, revengeful, deserving of revenge. 

Vengemettt, revenge. 

Venger, avenger. 

Ventayle, the place of the helmet. 

Vented, lifted up the visor, 

Venteth, snuffeth. 

Ventre, to venture, 

Venirous, t'enturous, bold, adventurous, 

Vere, to veer. 

Vermeil, Termeill, vermeil, rermily, vermilion. 

Vertuous, possessing virtue or power. 

Vestiment, vestment. 

Vetchy, consisting of the straw of the vetch 

(tare). 
Vild, vile. 
Vildly, vilely. 
Villein, base-born, low. 
Vireidyes, light songs. 
Virginal, pertaining to a virgin. 
Visnomie, visage. 
Vitall, life-giving. 

Voide, to avoid, turn aside, to ren-ove. 
Voided, cleared. 

Wade, to walk, go, 

Wae, woe. 

Wag, to move (the limbs). 

Wage, a pledge ; to pledge. 

Wagmoires, quagmires. 

Waide, weighed, proved. 

Wai/t, a waif, an article found and not claimed 

by an owner. 
Waite, to watch. 
Wakefull, watchful. 
Walke, to roll, wag. 
Walloiced, groveling, 
Tra?i, gained ; took. 
Wan, pale, faint. 
Wand, branch of a tree. 
Wanton, wild. 
War, vvorse. 
Ward, to guard. 
Ware, wary, cautious. 
Warelefifi, unaware ; unexpected ; heedless. 
War-hable, fit for war. 
Wariment, caution. 
Warke, work. 

War-monger, a mercenary warrior. 
Warray, warrey, to make war on, to lay waste. 
Warre, worse. 

Washerman, a sea monster in shape like a man. 
Wast, to desolate, lay waste ; wasted. 
Wastfull, barren, uninhabited, wild ; devastating. 
Wastness, wilderness. 
Water-sprinckle, waterpot. 
Wawes, waves. 
Wax, wex, to grow. 
Way, to weigh, esteem. 

Wayd. went on their way ; weighed, determinedt 
Waylpill. lamentable. 
Waymmiy to lament ; lamentation. 



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